The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality
by JuMiKu
Summary: Voldemort is dead, but Harry still suffers. He has to watch everything around him die. When he is sent to Middle Earth to change this, will things change for the better or the worse? LotRHP xover The rating is probably too high.
1. The End of the second Life

Summary: This is an LotR/HP crossover. What if Harry was turned into a vampire? Well, this is my unusual take on the slightly overused plot. Harry managed to kill Voldemort, but he still suffers the curse of eternal existence and has to watch everything around him wither away, so Harry is sent to Middle Earth in order to be with other immortal beings. There the boy-faced man meets a powerful sorcerer called Saruman, who he soon starts to suspect isn't as "white" as everyone in this world wants to believe. When the other wizard becomes aware of Harry's knowledge, he turns all of Arda against him and the vampire is soon known as the Dark Wizard, the scourge of Arda. But years later Saruman's treason is known to Gandalf, who therefore begins to believe in his innocence. Slowly Harry will have to redeem himself – for things he had no control over.

I have read LotR, the Hobbit and the Silmarillion and have of course seen the movies, but the books of Tolkien are just too complex and there are far more than those books I have read already, so I will most of the time have to drastically shorten it and surely make "horrible" mistakes with the history. If you feel the need to correct me, do so nicely, please. I get a little **_frustrated_** with people, who mix LotR up with a religion.

Warning: There will be blood, considering the protagonist has to drink it, but not too much.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

As in most of the first chapters of my fics the point of view in this chapter is different than in the rest of the story. Here, it is a dual point of view, but as always it will be Harry-centred for the rest of the story.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 1 - The End of the second Life**

A knock sounded on the door to the Headmistress' private quarters. Smiling slightly the old woman, called, "Come in!" She opened the door with a wave of her hand, revealing a deathly pale teenage boy with unruly hair and red eyes. Usually she would have called him by his name before opening the door, just to humour him, but what she wanted to discuss today was too serious to allow him to amuse himself by comparing her to their passed Headmaster first. She might not be able to do it then.

"Hello, Hermione. You look younger every night," the boy smiled charmingly showing off white sharp teeth, as he made his way up to her.

She scoffed. "Lier," she muttered, although she did like it, when he complimented her. "Good evening, Harry." She sat comfortably in one her over-stuffed Gryffindor-coloured chairs, sipping a cup of steaming tea, waiting for her friend to make himself at home in the chair opposite of her, before she conjured up a second cup for him, although she knew he wouldn't be able to drink it, because she had long ago found out, that he enjoyed holding the cup tightly in his hands, bringing a little heat to his cold body. They fell into companionable silence, as they often did. After spending so many years together one usually knew, what the other was thinking anyway.

The boy in front of her took the liberty of inspecting the changes in her, as he did more and more often lately. Despite what he had said earlier, he was very aware of the shaking of her withered hands and her pale face. Tonight she looked every of her 145 years; not that he would mention it..., but it made him weary.

She closed her eyes, trying to find the right words for what she wanted to say.

He decided to help her slightly, feeling that she was a little stuck, not knowing how to begin. He prompted lightly, "What is the matter?"

The witch smiled. Of course he would know. She couldn't get to the heart of the problem this easily though. "We have been friends for a long time now, haven't we?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going, but he nodded anyway. They had been friends long before his second life started. "More than a century." As she nodded her head contemplatively, he caught sight of her pained look, before she hid it behind her cup of tea, as she took a small sip. He eyed this with more than a little envy, trying to remember just how it felt, when the hot tea made its way down his throat until it settled in his stomach.

She placed the empty cup on a low table next to her chair, where a heavy book she had just finished reading lay. In it she had found a truly remarkable spell. Her eyes turned sad, but she knew it was for the best of her friend. A tear came to her eye, as a small egoistic part of her screamed that she didn't want to lose him, too, even if he would be happier. She jumped slightly, when a cold, _young_ hand brushed her tears away. Her eyes were staring right into concerned glowing red ones.

"What's wrong 'Mione?" He was getting a little desperate, when his friend threw her arms around him, sobbing horribly. She hadn't cried, since Ron died and he was still very bad, when it came to crying females, but settled for something he vaguely thought he might have seen the horse-faced woman he used to know – What was her name again? Who was she? – do to make a pig-like, blonde-haired child stop crying. He hesitantly rubbed circles on her back and whispered soothing nonsense. In the beginning it seemed to work, but when he muttered: "Don't worry, I'm here...," she stopped her sobbing abruptly, looking at him with a resolution, that seemed to melt her years away and suddenly he found himself seeing the young bushy-haired girl in front of him again. He could almost see the girl and her boyfriend insist on coming along, when he told her and his other best friend Ron about going on his hunt for the Horcruxes. Oh, how he wished he had gone alone now. It could have all ended so much better or he could have just left it to the Order and all of this would have never...

The memory vanished completely, when she said almost the opposite of what she had told him back then,"Yes, but I won't be here much longer." Before him was the ancient, battle-worn woman again.

He let her go, backing a few paces away, as the tired woman sank back into her chair, still staring at him with determination.

She looked at him sympathetically, when his eyes clouded with denial of her words and she was sure that he could only keep himself from retorting angrily by reminding himself that this would only give her the advantage of him acting the way he looked like. He was still a child really. Her eyes turned sad. He would always be a child, no matter what he saw or did. He had been forgotten by time. Left behind really, while everyone else went on without him. "You know that I can't stay with you forever."

His eyes turned dark, but not with fury. He felt desperation. "I will go with you," he declared. They avoided using the word "die" or "dead", preferring the far less harsh sounding synonyms for it.

"You can't and you won't," she informed in a voice, that wasn't unlike it had been when she had still taught Transfiguration.

"The hell I will!" he snarled, baring his fangs, which didn't have the desired effect on her though. "Everybody is _there_ and so will I!"

She sat there observing her friend with a mixture of impatience and mild annoyance, the way she used to feel, when he just didn't understand something she was trying to explain to him. She spoke in the voice a mother might use to explain something rather obvious to her child, which she knew would annoy him to no end, as he, despite his looks, was less than a year younger than her, "You would never throw your life away and you know it. Not after everybody fought so hard to make living possible for you. You couldn't do it, when you were turned and you won't be able to do it now."

"Back then there was still Voldemort and Snape! I just couldn't go without ridding the world of them." he yelled. He knew she was right, but his heart screamed in denial. He _had _to be able to do this! She was the last attachment he had left. If she was gone, what should he stay here for? He would be ultimately alone and he couldn't even stand the mere _thought _of it!

She watched as angry, betrayed blood-tears came to his eyes, but he wiped them away before they could fall, smearing blood all over his hands and face. She stood up slowly, mindful of her old bones, levitating a bag, which she had packed herself the night before, when he was out checking, whether a student was out of bed, over to him. "Here, you will need this." She let it float in front of him, but he didn't make any move to grab it out of midair.

The other ancient being's eyes widened in hurt. He exclaimed in disbelief, "You are throwing me out?!" This was the only real home he had ever had! She was the only family he had! Where was he supposed to go?!

She shook her head mildly, giving him an apologetic smile, as she stopped to stand a few paces away from him. "No, I am going to send you somewhere, where you won't have to watch everything grow old and die eventually."

He couldn't help himself. He laughed almost hysterically and he was sure if he had the need to breath, he would have had to choke out the words, "Hermione! The only other immortal thing on this bloody planet are _phoenixes_ and they would hardly tolerate me, 'cause they despise everything dark! Not that I'd ever spent eternity with a few overgrown chickens!" That was a lie and a bad one at that, but he wasn't going to admit that. He loved those birds and would gladly spent _all_ his life, listening to their songs.

"I'm not talking about this world," she explained calmly, causing his laughter to cease abruptly and when she made the floating bag nudge him, he grabbed it on what she was sure was pure instinct.

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" he muttered in confusion.

"I found a very interesting book in the personal library of the Headmasters'. Reading it, I came across a spell with the ability to send a person to a type of people of the caster's choosing. If need be even to another planet, time or reality."

Green eyes widened, when his friend took out her wand. He stepped back hastily, turning around ready to bolt, but he felt his knees go weak, shortly before they collapsed under his body's weight. He used his left arm to turn back to face her, while he fished around the pocket of his robe for his wand, aiming it straight at her, but before he could shout a single spell, a white light struck him squarely in his chest. For a fleeting moment, he thought with no small amount of satisfaction that her spell must not have worked. He yelled, "Expelliarmus!" Nothing happened. Harry blanched, remembering the magic-binding charm. It was just temporary, but it was plenty of time for whatever she wanted to do. He was sure of that. He felt really vulnerable. He had always hated that feeling.

The boy or rather man, for that is, what he really was, turned scared, pleading eyes to his _long_-time friend, who turned her head away, tears rolling down her cheeks, continuing her silent chant, afraid, that seeing blood tracks make their way down his face in a mockery of her own clear ones, would sway her in her decision.

He was mildly aware that his unruly black hair was blown everywhere by a wind that seemed to come from everywhere at once, as a large pentagram appeared on the floor beneath him.

Continuing her incantation now out loud she unwillingly became aware that her friend was unconsciously clutching the bag close to him, searching for comfort, while he scrunched his eyes shut against the bright light the pentagram was beginning to emit. Guilt almost drowned her, but it was too late to stop. One day he would be glad she did this, she imagined, but she would regret it for the rest of her life. She would never find a friend like him again. She took a deep breath before calling to him, although he probably couldn't hear, since the wind had picked up to something closely resembling a storm, but she could make out the form of a crumbled figure in the middle, "Goodbye, Harry, I will give everybody your regards once I go to see them!" She murmured the last part of the spell out loud and the wind exploded outward in a flash of light, leaving behind an exhausted Headmistress in a room that vaguely reminded her of the boys' old dormitory. The thought sent her into another crying fit and this time there were no cold arms clumsily placed around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. _She_ was alone now...


	2. Orthanc

I just wanted to warn you before you complain: I'm aware of the fact that Harry had red eyes in the last chapter. This is _not_ a mistake!

I know that the common tounge is most definitely _not_ English, but in my story it is to make things at least a little easier for Harry!

For those, who are interested: It's the year 2998 of the Third Age, so it's roughly 50 years since Bilbo returned to the Shire and Gollum has escaped from Mordor twenty years ago. In 3 years Bilbo turns 111 years old.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 2 – Orthanc**

Harry sat up, opening his eyes, just to slam his hands in front of them with a gasp of pain. His nightly red eyes were not meant to be subjected to the light of day. He had to blink a couple of times to get the spots, that were still dancing in his vision, to recede slightly, as his eyes turned back into the brilliant emerald green he was known for.

Looking around, he came to a realisation that made him blink in surprise: This was most certainly not _his_ room. Although the floor and the walls of the room, he was in, were made of a dark stone, he couldn't identify, the room was light-flooded, as on one side off the high room were several high windows.

He stood up. Pacing around the room, he tried to find something familiar. Was it some secret room of Hogwarts? Maybe just the Room of Requirement... No, that was unlikely. What would _he_ need such a light-flooded room for?

What was he doing here? What did he do before falling unconscious? _How_ did he fall unconscious?

He went to meet Hermione yesterday, he remembered that much. What happened during their meeting though? Trying his best to remember, the first thing that came back to him was her odd behaviour. Why had she been acting weird? She said something about her not living forever... and she didn't want him to be left behind.

That was when he found the bag, she had packed for him. It lay innocently beside his bed. Grabbing it, all missing memories suddenly returned to him. Like a tidal wave the memories crashed down and drowned him. He couldn't quite sort through them at first, leaving him stunned for a second, but then he let lose a blood-curling roar filled with emotions, ranging from longing to betrayal.

"So you have finally awoken," an enchanting, wise voice called in relief, effectively cutting him off, although he hadn't spoken loudly at all. "I have been worried about you, child."

Harry whipped around and gasped, when all he could see was light, that eased the painful emotions, whirling through him. To his great disappointment the beautiful light was soon lowered to a less brilliant degree though, until it was a soft ethereal glow, that a very old white haired man with a long staff in his right hand, seemed to emit.

He was a truly respect-inspiring person, despite his age. On the contrary, his age enhanced the natural power he had over people by pronouncing his obvious wisdom. Harry knew from the moment his eyes landed on the man that he was the most powerful wizard, he had ever seen. Dumbledore, Voldemort and even Hermione were nothing compared to him.

The man approached him and Harry drew back slightly, feeling unworthy of being in the man's presence, as he was quite the opposite of the man. He felt like he was in the presence of an angel.

The man raised a slightly amused eyebrow, but murmured in a soothing, concerned voice: "You don't need to fear me, little one, I am Saruman the White of the White Council. I do not intend to hurt you. What is your name?" He continued in his advance and Harry didn't try to stay away any more, fearful that he might insult the other.

Under normal circumstances the young-looking being would have felt annoyance, when someone treated him like a child, although he was most of the time several times as old as the person, but it reminded Harry too much of how his late Headmaster used to treat him to annoy him much. He was convinced anyway, that this man was in fact so old, that he _was_ young in comparison. Wasn't this the reason Hermione sent him here? "Harry"

The man finally stood in front of Harry, "Fangorn found you. You were lucky I happened to take a stroll through the forest, when I did or he might have simply disposed of you..."

The man looked only mildly irritated with who-ever it was, he was talking about, but the green-eyed man made a mental note to give this Fangorn a piece of his mind. He didn't take too kindly to people, trying to get rid of him, while he was in the helpless state of being unconscious.

Concerned dark eyes turned to him again, as the great wizard in front of him lowered his head to further examine the young face. "What happened to you, young one? There was blood all over your face and hands...," His eyes turned a slightly darker shade, as they suddenly became sharp and calculating. "although you didn't have any wounds on either. Have you done something, you want to talk to me about?"

Confused eyes were the only answer he got for a few minutes, until Harry realized what the other wizard was talking about. "Oh. I cried," he muttered, looking at the floor, hoping despite better knowledge, that the other wouldn't think less of him. He knew from experience that once he told people this most figured it out, but lying made situations like this worse.

To Harry's great relief and confusion, his voice remained sweet and sympathetic: "What does this have to do with the blood?"

The dark creature's confused eyes blinked. "I cry blood." He _had_ to have figured it out by now!

The eyebrow was raised higher and the eyes became even more piercing. "I beg your forgiveness for my ignorance, but I have never heard of a race that cries blood. Would you care telling me about yourself?" Obviously not expecting a negative answer he lead the other towards two wooden chairs, that were facing each other, while Harry figured out, that Hermione had actually succeeded. He wasn't in his world anymore. The old being was only vaguely surprised that since he was angry with Hermione for doing this without his consent, he missed nothing. There was simply nothing left to miss. Even Hogwarts was not really his home any more without his _family_ there.

He shook his head slightly confused, which the white-robed man misunderstood as affirmative answer to his long-forgotten question and sat down with a grace, that defyed his age in Harry's opinion. Then he remembered the man's request to tell him about himself.

He could lie now and probably get away with it, since the other would most likely never find out about it, but something made him reconsider this. If this man in front of him was truly immortal, then Harry should do his best not to botch up and lose the wary trust the other was willing to give him. Now that he was given the opportunity to be with a constant in his life, he found that it sounded too good to risk in favour of hiding his dark past. He had a feeling if he explained everything, the other would understand.

So Harry told the other everything he remembered. Even though a century had passed already he tried to add as many details as he could, but he noticed with growing horror that the story was nearing its darkest parts. "I turned back grinning at Hermione and Ron the horcrux safely in my fist..." For the first time Harry stuttered in his story-telling. He tried hard to battle the images, that were slowly breaking him.

The white clothed wizard's eyes sharpened and for a moment Harry hoped he'd be allowed to skip the part he obviously didn't want to talk about, but the older wizard only half-whispered: "Do continue, please," in this feathery-soft voice of his, sounding forceful and regretful at the same time.

With all the will Harry could master, he started again, "..., but suddenly I felt a searing hot pain almost as horrible as the Cruciatus coming from the side of my neck, as an impossibly strong grip held me in place. I felt someone sucking the fluids out of my body agonisingly slowly – well at least in my opinion it was slow. I was dimly aware of Ron's and Hermione's screaming. I don't know what they screamed. Maybe hexes or they were just screams of terror, but either way, it didn't help. I was already so weak that the vampire was the only thing supporting me, when a furiously red cutting curse flew just over my shoulder, slicing its head off. Both of our bodies slumped to the floor, his blood spraying everywhere. A great deal of blood landed on my dieing body and by chance or rather misfortune, a little bit trickled into my mouth. Slowly the pain dimmed and I thought that was the end. I would now die and go see my parents. I was right on one point: I died in that moment, but it was neither the end, nor did I or will I see my parents any time soon."

The wizard's eyes widened a little in mild interest. "So you have been reborn?"

"No, I'm still dead, although I like to call this my second life."

At this bushy white eyebrows shot up. "Why do you remain here? How can the dead remain among the living without losing their bodies?"

Harry was getting annoyed with the other man's questions, so he answered, knowing full well, that it wouldn't mean much to the other: "The thing that bit me was a vampire."

"So whoever is bit by a _vampire_ dies and becomes one too?" he asked trying to fill the blanks Harry had left purposefully.

The vampire shook his head, deciding to get the explanations over with and hope for pity, instead of the usual reaction: fear and disgust. "Only if the victim drinks a little of the vampire's blood. Otherwise he or she either dies of blood loss or if the vampire didn't drink too much, continue to live as though nothing has happened." Seeing that the wizard wanted to know more, he gave him more information, "A vampire is an undead creature, that drinks blood to keep its body from dieing completely. If they do so they are basically immortal - if nobody severes their head that is. They can heal every other wound."

That seemed to catch the other wizard's attention. "They can't be killed otherwise?"

"I don't know any other way. Other wounds may merely cause us to fall unconcious, if the pain is unbearable. We can even regrow lost body parts in a matter of days, if we have enough blood in our system."

"How long can you sustain without drinking blood?"

The younger of the two winced. He was hit by a memory, he certainly did not wish to remember. "That depends...Everything we do-walking, talking or even just existing- takes us a certain amount of blood to do. If we did nothing at all and remained perfectly still, we might be able to last a year, two perhaps."

Saruman frowned thoughtfully. "And if you are _active_?"

"I don't know for sure, since we go into a crazed blood-lust and develop enormous strength far superior to even our nightly hunting form, none have been able to tell how long we can _really _last without blood. If we don't get blood, when we need it - which is most of the time every few weeks - we _are_ going to get it a week later at most." A flash of red hair that was in many places darker and damp lit up in his mind and he tried to shut out the images of more parts of the red-head, lying in different places all over a great room.

A light squeeze of his shoulder was all it for some reason took the old man to snap him out of his daymare. "Please, continue, my boy. I need to know all. What happened after you found that Horcrux?"

"Hermione and Ron panicked, while I fell in and out of consciousness. Since she knew I desperately needed blood and would soon be unable to control my actions, she decided that we would break into a hospital." He continued, his voice growing monotone, as it grew harder to talk about the horrible events taking place after his turning. Although he later found out that Snape had little choice but to kill Dumbledore, the vengeful dark creature spoke of how he ripped him apart in great detail and deep satisfaction. Finally they came to the part where he killed Nagini, who was the last Horcrux and was confronted by an enraged Voldemort, whom he only managed to kill, because he went into a crazed blood-lust, after being hit by a great number of cutting curses. After the fight, when he was done with Voldemort's body though, he was still beyond himself with hunger, as he was still suffering from the deeper wounds and had _toyed _too much with the monster's body. It was then that Ron stumbled in bleeding from a number of smaller wounds. He only remembered snatches of what happened after that, because he had buried those memories deep inside himself, but what he did remember forced blood streakes to trail down the sides of his face. He had to use all his willpower to tell his story to the point of him waking up in this room.

"I am sorry, child. I shouldn't have pressed you for information, but I had to know. I am meant to protect Arda, so I had to make sure you can be trusted," the white wizard told him with deepest regret.

"You knew I was not from this world?" Harry asked surprised.

"I knew that you were _different_," he said, smiling slightly. "You should get some rest and we will continue this conversation at a later time, my boy."

"But vampires don't _rest_! They may only fall unconsss..." Harry's voice slurred to a stop, as he felt himself slump back into the mattress he had only gotten up from a little earlier and the older wizard obviously having come to enough of an understanding of his race magically pulled the heavy curtains over the windows closed. After a small struggle, that Harry again lost, his eyelids closed on their own accord, smiling slightly at the thoughtful gesture.

"You should rest despite that, young friend. I will ask your assistance on a few matters tomorrow, if you don't mind."

So Harry stayed with the wizard helping wherever he could and in return receiving blood from Saruman's thralls.

He backed the walls around Orthanc up with wards and placed curses at the entrance that would attack anyone, who tried to enter without permission or with bad intentions or he spent his time searching the rooms for magical objects, that were forgotten by the muggles that used to live there. Most of those were weapons of all kinds that were on the fine line of a very well-crafted muggle weapon and a magical one.

It were peaceful and happy months, that he spent in the tower of Isengard, avoiding the sun by only leaving the building after sunset. Like most happy times in his life those times came to an end. He by accident stumbled across a forgotten study.

The door was rusted and shrieked in protest, as the vampire forced it to open. Hardly noticing the dust that greeted him and showered him, when it settled again, Harry set to work. He picked up some of the more important-looking documents, scrolls and books he found, as he didn't understand the letters and languages they were written in.

It was by pure luck that he found the room, hidden behind one of the bookshelves. Silently thanking his vampiric eyesight, that prefered the darkness to light, he surveyed the room, but the only thing that held his interest was the ball of stone, supported by a three-legged pedestal in the middle of the room.

He ran up to it and was about to size it, when the familiar voice of Saruman made him whirl around in a fluid motion, like a kid caught with its hand in the cookie-jar, "I think it would be best if you left that to me, Harry."

Feeling slightly miffed, Harry complied, stepping out of the way. As Saruman made his way towards the stone, his staff started to glow more brightly, but the wizard was obviously careful not to light it too fast, so Harry's eyes had the opportunity to change to their less light-sensitive form. "What is it?"

Examining the stone Saruman told him, "It is a Palantir." Knowing that this didn't answer the vampire's question very well, he elaborated: "It is an elvish Seeing Stone. Now please leave me alone, so I can study it further."

Turning around to follow this dismissal, when he heard the sharp edge to the wizard's tone, Harry made a mental note to ask him later what exactly "elvish" meant.

He never got the chance to though. The wizard started spending day in day out gazing into the stone. Beginning to worry, Harry began watching the other.

From his usual position at the door, spying through the jar, he couldn't see anything in the Stone. It took much time, until he saw the places and people the other saw mirrored in his eyes.

The spying his cohabitant did on those strangers wasn't what really worried Harry though. Every day he saw something horrible more often. It was a red eye and for a moment, he had thought it was his own, until he realised, that those unlike his were full of bad intentions and surrounded by flames.

Over time Saruman changed further.

Looking down Harry saw with a sad heart as the trees that used to carry fruits and the flowered bushes were hacked down on the white wizard's command to make way for buildings of ruffly-hewn stone, that already disfigured the area a farther bit away. He frowned, looking over to them. The cluster of buildings, from which at night the smoke of fires rose, could only be seen from the tower, as it was surrounded by a ring of high trees. He sometimes wondered what they were doing there, but he was quite sure that it had something to do with the pollution of the beautiful lake that was not too long ago filled with fish.

Let alone the things he saw lurking about at night. The vampire shuddered. Foul-smelling, disfigured monsters were starting to populate the area around the tower, forcing him to give up his old habit of venturing the grounds by night.

Harry was watching Saruman. The man wasn't gazing into his Palantir though. He was sitting in a high-backed almost throne-like chair, sitting in a position, that suggested he was deep in thought. The vampire was standing in the shadows of the room, hiding behind a pillar.

Suddenly the white haired man's eyes snapped open. He called with a voice that made it clear to the darker figure that he had known for quite some time, that he had been spied on: "Harry, come here, please."

Stepping out of the shadows, the vampire frowned slightly, wondering what had given him away, not at all feeling embarrassed for being caught. "Yes?"

Saruman smiled in a self-satisfied way, as though he had just won a battle - or was he about to win it? "I want to ask a favour of you that will be benefiting to both of us."

"And what _favour_ would that be?" Harry half-growled in his annoyance with the man, who was clearly going insane with the power he held.

The old man's eyes twinkled, as though he knew something the younger didn't. A little like Lockhart. A degrading, slightly cocky look that was most certainly pointing downward on everybody else. In this case Harry knew though, that the wizard had every reason to wear this look. It was unnerving. "I want you to create a new tribe of vampires."

"What?!" Harry yelled, hoping he had misunderstood him.

A glare met him. It stated the other's patience was not up for such games today, as he told him, "You have heard me quite correctly. I want you to create more vampires."

"Never," he answered simply.

"You will do as I say!" Saruman commanded, but seeing that this only served to infuriate the dark creature more, he quickly changed tactics. His voice regained its charming quality, "Think about what you would win, boy! You could have a race of your own –a new _family_- and nobody would ever frown down upon you or your people. Nobody _could _frown down upon you, because you would have power, Harry. You wouldn't be different any more, but part of group of people like you, a society you could form yourself; you could rule!"

For a moment Harry almost sympathised with the dementors, as he suddenly realised what kind of person sat in front of him and what he offered him. Someone like this could offer far more to a monster like himself, than the _good_ ever could. He glared at Saruman defiantly despite that though. In honour of Dumbledore he had always done what was right and not what was easy.

"Fuck you," he said simply as he left the room, conveniently ignoring the fact that the sinister wizard most likely didn't know the word.

"You will regret this choice, Harry!" a more cheerful voice than Harry was comfortable with called after him. The words, 'because nobody else would ever take in the likes of you' were left unsaid, but couldn't have come across more clearly if he had screamed them after Harry's back. The short man ran up to his room, grabbing the bag, he had left untouched, in fright of the memories it adhered. Letting his instincts take over, he trusted the animal-like vampire in himself to take over and carry him out of the tower.

Watching the young-looking creature in its flight through the Palantir, Saruman of Many Colours almost laughed. Yes, it was doing exactly, what he had anticipated. It was highly amusing, that such a powerful creature was so predictable. He smirked. It wouldn't be gone for long and when it returned it would be ready to lead his army and follow him loyally. By now his ambassadors should have submitted his warnings, that he had encountered a certain new evil, to even the farthest parts of Middle Earth.


	3. Blood

**C2:** I would like to ask everyone, who likes Lord of the Rings / Harry Potter crossovers to help me with my C2. I want to establish a complete list of the LotR/HP x-over stories (Not all parodies though, maybe only the best of those), so if you want to suggest one or maybe even become a staff member please mail me.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**Warning for this chapter: **BLOOD and cruelty to poor beautiful animals! T.T I can't believe I really saw this through, I _love_ horses! Ughhh... I even had a worse version, where I explained _how_ he managed to tear off the skin and that was anatomically more correct, but I thought that gave you guys too many graphic scenes, you didn't really want to see...(Neither did I actually...)

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 3 – Thirst**

Hiding in a bush not far from the black tower he started from, Harry tried to make no sound at all. It was on rare occasions like this that he thanked his lucky stars that he no longer had a heart or breath to calm. The deep wheezing was coming in his direction and Harry became aware of a strong odor, gradually assaulting his sensitive nose. A grunt made the boy wince and he cursed himself a hundred times for first being so inattentive not to notice the loud, fetid thing, that was now searching for whatever made the rustling noise it had heard a moment before and then ducking under the scrub in such a way, that he couldn't see a thing.

Not that he really needed to, he reflected. The thing did nothing to hide its presence from him. He could almost see it whipping its head from side to side, letting greasy felted hair fly and thus spreading its smell everywhere. Its nostrils would flare widely, trying to pick up the faint scent, he still carried, although being dead, he didn't sweat any more.

Luck was on Harry's side as the creature lumbered in the opposite direction.

He had decided though that he should try to get out of there in case the thing came back with some friends of his.

He risked shifting and raising his head a little to get a look at the creature's retreating back. He had never had the chance to see one of those monsters up close. From what little he could see its body seemed to look as nasty as it's exhalation and what he had guessed from a distance.

Calling it ugly wouldn't be accurate, he decided, because something ugly can actually be a pure creature on the inside, like most houselves were. Furthermore is 'ugly' something that varies with the point of view. These creatures on the other hand looked for lack of a better word 'evil', if anything can look that way.

It had blackish skin, that hung off it in thick, leathery crinkles. Its hair that had a grayish, blackish, brownish and in certain places even greenish mildew-like tint to it sprouted not only from its head, but seemingly random places all over its body in uneven lengths, as though it got ripped out in brutal fist fights on a regular level. It wore only some kind of leathery loincloth, that almost went past his attention as it looked exactly like the creature's skin. A wicked-looking sword hung crookedly at the beast's hip dangling from the same leatherbelt that held the cloth in place. The whole sword was encrusted with a dark substence his senses told him was dried blood, although he knew it was too dark in colour. It staggered off as though it had broken the bones in its legs and hip joint on various occasions and they had never properly healed. He had the bad feeling that it was faster than it looked though.

'_One more reason to get going'_, Harry thought, heading in the general direction he believed the way out of this region to have been in.

This encounter had started a very difficult game of hide and seek, in which he soon noticed he had to not only keep his body, but also his scent hidden from the beasts, as they had a very fine sense of smell.

Despite the creatures' rather ungainly attempts of finding the intruder, they undoubtedly knew was there, but simply couldn't find, Harry made good time. He worried though what he would do once the sun rose. He would lose all advantages he had over a normal human, that had saved him from being captured by the beasts before and he knew he still had a lot of ground to cover and wouldn't find a safe shelter until he was out of Isengard. _'Maybe even never,'_ he thought depressed as he remembered Saruman's stone, that could be used to spy on other people seemingly all over the planet.

His dilemma solved itself though. As the sun began to rise, the beasts retreated. This allowed Harry to cover far more ground by day than he was able to at night, although his almost-human form was far slower, than his vampiric one, that used to be normal vampires' preferred hunting-form. It took him two more days to get to the gates that were the only way out of the bowl-shaped area, apart from the portcullis the river used and Harry was sure he didn't fit through the spaces between the bars.

It was midday and Harry was hiding in the last row of bushes before the big field began that stretched from the walls to his hiding place.

Harry bit his lip in frustration, realising the very reason the field was bare was to make an unnoticed trespassing through these lands impossible, so it was safe to assume that if they left this much bare land_ in_side the ring then there was an at least as big ungreened ring on the other side. On top of the walls he thought he saw the shape of men, but from this distance it was difficult to tell. For all he knew it could have been one of the monsters, but then again, why would the ones patrolling the grounds all leave by daybreak if those were allowed to stay out in the open?

Cursing he pondered the situation. There had to be a way for him to get through there unnoticed. Should he wait for nightfall and use his vampire-body's advantages?

He let the bag fall to the ground as he got more comfortable. He fingered the wand in his pocket, wondering whether the answer to his problem was magic. He rarely used it, as it cost him too much blood to use lightly, so unsurprising he pondered a good half hour, until his eyes snapped open and he cursed himself for needing so much time to remember such an elementary spell as the disillusion charm. He tried not to think too much about what would happen if one of the guards had good eyesight and noticed his mimicry, preferring to wreck his brain for the incantation and wand movement needed to perform the spell.

By the time he was sure he knew how to cast the spell again the sun was setting. He could hear the faint voices of the impatient creatures in the distance, as his hearing improved very slowly. He remembered a time when he thought the slow gradual change was almost worse than the agonic, fast one. It hadn't really been the constant dull pain, that accompanied even the slowest change, but the uncomfortable shifting of his very being. _"Or was it the itching in my eyes?"_ he reconsidered dryly, as he rubbed them in an attempt to rid himself of the familiar, but none the less irritating sensation.

Harry waited impatiently for the sun to sink below the mountains and when finally even the last rays stopped setting the sky alight in blood-red colours, he was only dimly aware of the cries of the monsters, hunting these lands.

He took out the from constant touch over the course of more than a hundred years almost blackish, but really rather ugly grey holly wand. He carefully tapped himself on the head a little awkward in his movements from the long time of not performing a spell, as he muttered the incantation, hoping he made no mistake in the pronunciation. He was pacified when the distinctly familiar feeling of having an egg cracked on his head came over him. He shuddered, watching as his hands and wand started showing the ground below.

Without further ado he grabbed the bag and started running as fast as he could over the grassy field separating him from the wall, distractedly noting as he approached it that the shapes on it were indeed human. That he could now easily make them out did nothing to calm his nerves, because it made him feel as though they should be able to see him as well and more than once he found himself stop almost dead in his tracks as he thought one of them was staring directly at him. He felt far safer when he was standing in front of or rather when he found himself pressing himself against the wall, rather than in their line of vision. After a few seconds of rest to calm his nerves and assure himself that they had yet to notice anything was amiss, he made for the gate a short distance away.

The so-called gate was fortunately only a half-round opening in the wall. More functional than safe at the moment, but he was sure in a few weeks it would be covered by a thick door or something like that if the rest of Isengard was anything to go by. He briefly thought about the fact that this had been far too easy, which meant he could only hope Saruman had either pitied or _seriously_ underestimated him, despite knowing him so well. He doubted both, but didn't want to think of any of the other possible reasons. It was too late to rethink his almost non-existent-to-begin-with plan, so he slipped around the edge of the wall, running from there, half expecting something to come crashing down to block the exit that was now so tantalisingly close, but he made it out unhindered. He just kept on running, still unable to believe he had made it out of Isengard alive, uncomprehending that he had really been successful.

The nightly scenery blurred past him as he ran without looking back. He knew he was tempting fate the way he was pushing himself to his speed-limits and wasting the precious liquid he was running on, but for the moment he didn't care.

He stopped dead in his tracks, when a faint odor reached his nose and became aware of the primitive-looking settlement only a few hundred meters away. He scrunched his nose up frowning at nothing in particular, in annoyance with everything in general, because the lack of nutrition made him irritable, so the fact that he had not seen the houses or become aware of the rather nose-stinging odor sooner was enough to make him angry with himself for his lack of attention.

The musky scents of domestic animals lured him to the grange._'Nobody will ever find out. I won't kill them just satiate myself a little and be on my way again with nobody being the wiser. It would have far more dire consequences if I didn't drink anything for too long and kept running like I have done,' _he tried to justify his plans._  
_

Harry licked his lips nervously. He had _never_ drunk blood from an unwilling target. He had never even drunk from a body - while he was truly concious of it that is. The times he had he was in a bloodlust, but the vampire didn't want to think about that.

He followed the smells unaware of how he crouched down a little as the impulses grew stronger. He noted with relief that everything was dark and silent, indicating that the humans were sleeping.

He followed his nose until he arrived at an old paddock with a few big strong-looking horses. He frowned deeply. He was by no means an expert on horses, but he could tell that the stupid tamed animals had sensed the presence of a predator of a far more serious kind than they usually encountered and that their masters could save them from. It didn't take a particularly intelligent biologist to make this conclusion, as they were now on their legs, prancing nervously with their heads held up high and inhaling deeply, shielding their young.

One of them, a very dark brown, almost black giant of an animal, raised its nostrils to bare its teeth in a peculiar way and held its tail high in the air, while galloping around the others obviously searching for him, but since Harry had followed their scent, meaning the wind blew towards him, he could be pretty sure the blasted beast wouldn't be able to in this to both humans and most animals complete darkness with its over-cast sky and the lack of light-pollution.

Harry began to realise that this whole affair would be far more difficult than he had first anticipated.

Knowing that being as inexperienced as he was he would need a good strategy he started with the most elementary thing a wizard did before he used magic in a muggle-populated area. He placed a silencing and light-absorbing charm around the area, so the horses' owners wouldn't be alerted to his presence.

After a while Harry came up with a simple, but as he hoped foolproof tactic.

He frowned, eyeing the horses wondering whether they were worth such a blood-loss, but he still couldn't think of a better plan, so quickly going over the still fresh in mind spell, he muttered annoyedly, "Stupefy." He watched a light brown mare fall to the ground unconscious and saw with dawning horror that the rest of the herd dispersed into chaos, running around in blind panic. Cursing Harry sped up, realising that they would try to escape their entrapment and with the slightest twinge of worry, that in their panic they would probably not care or even notice if they trampled the fallen one. In quick succession he felled the fifteen or so animals, trying to take down one after another those that were coming too near to the barriers or to an unconscious conspecific. He winced in sympathy, as the last one made a mad dash and a big leap, that would have carried it cleanly over the fence, had the stunner not hit it dead-on in mid-jump. It crashed painfully into the fence and Harry hoped he hadn't hurt it too badly.

He looked at the herd, wrinkling his nose suddenly a little disgusted with the prospect of closing his mouth around one of the horses' hairy, stinking and probably very dusty neck.

Out of nowhere a furious black shape, that was even to him hard to make out in the - thanks to his charm - darker than natural area, threw him to the ground, while it's teeth tore off a big chunk of skin and flesh from Harry's forearm, which he must have raised instinctively to try to shield his face. Before he had the time to recover from hitting the ground, the shape he recognised as the enormous wild beast he had noticed earlier, had raised itself to its hind legs and in the last moment he managed to duck out of the way, as the creature tried to smash his head with its heavy hooves.

In a motion of old instilled instinct Harry picked up the wand he found under the fingers of his left hand from where it must have fallen during the action, twisting it swiftly, albeit clumsily in the monster's direction, yelling, "Petrificus Totalus!" It froze in a new attack, its momentum throwing it heavily to the ground.

He snarled angrily at his surprisingly resourceful foe, whose eyes were still rolling in fury and panic. Cradling his injured limb close to his chest, Harry noted with fury, that it was leaking precious blood in little but steady rivers.

_'It must have taken the fence, while I was distracted with one or more of the others.'_

The vampire knelt by the beast's side fully aware and quite content that the horse would feel the whole ordeal. A memory of him at Malfoy's mercy surfaced and for the briefest moment he would have almost been able to hold back, but the stupid animal shouldn't have made him lose even more blood.

He lowered his head and bit down into the neck, the sharp scent the horse emitted tingling uncomfortably in his nose. Only a few dirty droplets rained into his waiting mouth. He snapped his head back angrily, spitting out hairs. He had bit into thick muscle, but he knew that wouldn't be an issue much longer. His humanity was already almost gone and he knew he couldn't keep a hold of it much longer.

Sitting back the dark creature, cocked its head at the large creature before it. It had never tried to drink from anything but humans and it was just as unsure on how to approach this rich feast as its more human counterpart, but finally it smirked viciously tearing off the skin protecting its victim's neck, until it could see where the carotid was. It drank more than its body had ever been given the chance to take and waited a little more to see the wide, rolling, agony-filled eyes still. Then it left to find a place, where it could rest until its wound healed and the blood settled in its body.

Harry never knew that later red eyes snapped open to fix on the beast's fallen herd. He never saw the once beautiful dark brown stallion brutally feast on the geldings, its mates and offspring and take flight when it became aware of the way the rising sun seemed to unsettle it. The dark wizard had not heard the peasants' cries of anguish, when they beheld their loyal and beloved horses lying in mangled heaps on the blood soaked grass. He didn't know how much the people of Rohan valued their horses.

Harry was obvious as he leaned against the rough surface of a boulder, coming to his senses. He wondered what the press would say if they found out a simple farm-animal had been able to almost defeat him and get him to the same point Voldemort had. They probably would make society even more afraid of him. Not that that was an issue any more.

He didn't feel much remorse for what he had done. His arm, which was still prickling with the sensation of fresh accelerated healing, was a good indication, that the horse was not one that would be missed direly in the world - at least by him.

He picked himself up from the ground, very aware that he no longer had any idea, in which direction Isengard lay and therefore a little worried that he would run right back to the place he was running _from_. Survival skills were not something Harry was schooled at, so to him everything in this country, aside from the single boulder in the wide area he could overlook from his position, looked the same.

If Harry did sigh he would have done so in that moment, but since it was something he avoided doing, because it reminded him too much of breathing, he simply settled for frowning at nothing. He should have taken a closer look at the countless confusing maps of this country he had found in Isengard, but they had been just that to him, confusing maps, not something he had thought he'd ever need knowing. He hadn't intended to ever leave the other wizard. His scowl deepened, but he decided he might as well start while it was still day, as he was less likely to get into trouble, if he ran into humans. Picking a random direction, he started running again.

It took Harry two more days to find another human-built structure. It could be seen from far away, as it was built on a hill. It stood out breath-takingly against the mountains behind it.

As he drew closer a speck, parting itself from the buildings, started to draw his attention. It looked like a hord of people or maybe the things from Isengard and it was moving – in his direction if he wasn't mistaken. Harry gulped. From the distance it was hard to tell, but he thought it was moving quite fast, which usually wasn't a good sign, especially for him at the moment, since it was just past sun-down. To add to this bad situation they were in a plain, which meant there was very little cover he could seek.

As his would-be attackers neared he could make out that they were a battalion of savage-looking riders all had their spears pointed forward – at him. At least they were seemingly human.

In spite of the situation Harry smirked, when he saw what effect he had on horses once more. Some of the riders were beginning to have trouble controlling their mounts properly. One was thrown off his horse and almost trampled as the creature bolted, which did nothing to calm those left behind. _'One down a whole lot still to go.'_

Deciding to use the mounts' fear to his advantage, Harry started acting his part of a predator, running towards the now uncontrollable horses, showing off his needle-like fangs and narrowed red eyes boring into his mock prey, while snarling like his House's mascot. He had to bite back the laughter rippling up inside him, as the first of the previously fearsome-looking horsemen turned tail and ran after their fleeing mounts or a few of those still on their horses' back stopped resisting the more intelligent half of their partnership and let it take its course, terror plain in their eyes.

Others didn't show any signs of falling off or fleeing any time soon though. Harry singled out the one that had not wavered from his course in the slightest, sitting on his gorgeous white horse in an armour far more intricate and beautiful than his friends'. _'The guy deserves some praise for his and his horse's bravery,' _Harry decided.

The wizard knew it would be very painful, but he halted, only having a second to question his thinking and didn't step out of the way of the running horse, simply being galloped over and immeadiately darkness overcame him.

He had never anticipated the pain he woke up in.

He hurt all over, but he was not dead and the riders' didn't know that. This was another advantage to not breathing or having a heartbeat. There was no real way to tell the difference.

A negative side to his plan was his location though. He had been buried. Panic settled in and he kicked and trashed._'Or rather covered with ten __centimetres of dirt',_ Harry thought dumbfounded, as he looked around realising he had already freed himself from the thin layer of earth, previously covering him. He still seemed to be in roughly the same place he had been trampled over in, as the view of the city seemed to be the same.

Fortunately it was night and the people in the city would have a harder time spotting him now. He decided to take his leave, before this advantage left with the darkness, although now that his robes were a dusty brown, instead of it's usual black, he probably wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb any more, he noted annoyedly.

He took off at high-speed, noting approvingly, that apart from the stiffness and pain in his bones, which indicated he had broken and mended a lot of them, he didn't feel any difference to earlier this morning. He wondered how he had been able to store all this blood he had taken from the horse, but shook his head at the stupidity of trying to make sense of a corpse, who could still walk and talk by drinking blood. _'A century in the Wizarding World and I still think like a muggle...'_

Harry couldn't help but let his head hang realising that he had just found another place he should avoid in this world. He could only hope he would find people worth his trust soon, because he didn't want to become like the monsters he exterminated in his world. He feared he was on his best way there.


	4. The long Dark

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**Warning for this chapter: **Erm... Hmmm... How about... blood? Pointy things stuck into unsuspecting vampire-teens? Life weary, somewhat stupid elves?

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 4 – The long Dark**

Appart from the gurgling of the river it was quite silent. Most other beings would have been unsettled by this almost complete silence, despite the many trees and reed, bordering the river, in which animals _should_ have been hiding. Harry was used to the fauna fleeing when he was close though. He was beginning to suspect that vampires had always preferred human blood for the simple reason that most other beings seemed to be intelligent enough to recognise such a danger when it was near.

He was sitting in the high, untamed grass framing the water, resting not really his body, which didn't need any rest, but rather his mind. He thought about everything that had happened so far and two more or less conflicting needs seemed the most urgent to him at the moment.

There was on one hand his more or less weekly need of blood, that was proving to be quite hard to satisfy in a world without blood banks and willing donors. He either needed to sharpen his hunting skills and learn how to make prey of wild animals or... He stopped thinking in that direction before it could truly form into mental image of him abducting humans. _"This is _not_ an option,"_ he thought somewhat unnerved that the thought had even ocurred to him.

On the other hand there was his need to be among living beings. Harry was no fool. He knew enough about vampires to know that many had been driven into insanity by the isolation imposed on them by the persecuting mortals and quite often themselves.

The dark and rather dirty man sighed, leaning forward to look at his blood and dirt-smeared reflection, smiling in mild amusement when he remembered that Hermione told him that muggles believed him to have none. _"Ironic really..." _he mused wryly,_ "I myself have never been fond of vampire stories." _He cupped the water into his hands. It was icy, but he splashed it on his face and rubbed the dirt off, despite the temperature, knowing it wasn't enough to be truly harmful to him.

Watching the water settle again, he decided, that although his clothes were still filthy and his hair still tangled with mud, he looked decidedly more human than a moment ago. Refraining from using a spell to clean his clothes, because, after seeing the savage riders, he had come to the conclusion that this country was populated by people who did not care too much about hygiene and him walking around in immaculate clothing would only draw additional unwanted attention.

He took off his bag, that must have made from a rather sturdy material or charm, as it still didn't look battered. Using it as a pillow, he lay, looking at the blue sky. There was a more immediate problem to pursue, than his thirst and his loneliness. Where should he go next? He hoped he had more or less left the land of those riders behind, when he crossed the river, but he could of course not be sure how much ground the city, from which they obviously came, governed.

He couldn't follow the river any more. It was leading into a deep dark forest, which he could tell from this great distance, he didn't want to venture into.

"Well, walking in a random direction usually takes you _somewhere_, right?" muttered to the empty air.

He simply headed farther in the same direction, noting that the imposing forest stayed firmly on his left.

Now and again he found the poor remains of long-abandoned villages and he got the impression that this part of the country had been all but deserted by humans. No doubt the desertion of this area had to do with the forest. The dark and fearsome man himself did not want to draw any nearer to it than necessary. The trees seemed to warn him to stay away or he would not live to regret it. He took the silent threat to heart, hurrying to make it to more populated regions, but a good while later he found his way blocked by yet another river. It too came from the unsettling woods, but what truly caught his attention and gave him some relief was that the trees seemed to thin out farther ahead on the other side of the river.

Now he was confronted with the problem of the river acting as a natural barrier though. The former river he had been able to cross easily, because there were a few bridges made of stone, but this was a far less populated area, so it didn't really surprise him that he couldn't see a bridge as far as his eye could reach.

He gnawed on his lip, knowing he couldn't use magic to solve this problem as he didn't know how much longer it would take him to catch something drinkable. _"So how am I supposed to get across?"_ he wondered sullenly. The water was undoubtably icy and he was by no means a good swimmer. Actually he was slightly afraid of it, although he was too proud to admit it even to himself.

He tried measuring the river with his eyes. He _should_ be able to do it._"After all my physical powers have all been increased by becoming a vampire. I shouldn't have trouble doing this..."_

He reached out with his hand to check the temperature of the water and although the cold made him wince and draw his hand back immediately, he knew it wasn't too cold to cause problems with the unheated and unmoving blood in his body.

He tucked a little harshly on the straps of his bag and on sudden inspiration cast a water repellant charm on it, in fear that whatever was inside would be damaged by water. He truly didn't like the prospect of swimming in the frosty, deep river but his mind wasn't forthcoming with other options.

He stepped forward into the piercing cold waters, as it splashed merrily against his calves, soaking his shoes and the hem of his robes. When the water reached his chest he was almost to the middle of the river and he knew he was lucky to have found a shallow spot by mere chance.

Taking another step, his foot suddenly found no ground and Harry swung his arms widely in surprise, as he lost his footing. He started kicking his legs and using his arms to make clumsy swim-movements, but that only served to let him sink _slightly_ slower than a stone. He let out a frightened yell for help that was cut off and turned into gurgle as he sank under the surface.

The vampire reached the riverbed a second later and he was still kicking in panic, trying to reach the surface. Long moments passed and he fell to his knees slowly, closing his eyes.

After a moment or so he snapped them open again. _"I'm an absolute_idiot_!"_ he thought as he realised that he didn't need to breathe and could therefore hardly drown.

Not that that made the situation any less awful. Trying to get used to the stubborn feeling that told him he was or rather _should be_suffocating, he closed his eyes again.

With a determined, although due to the muddy ground unsteady and slow stride, he moved forward, until he felt that the ground was rising again, leading him out of the depression he had stumbled into.

Scrambling up a slick slimy rock, he found himself braking the surface again. Suddenly as air encompassed him again he realised how important it was to him, despite his lack of physical need for it. For a minute he simply hung onto the slick surface of the rock, relishing in the prickling feeling of cold wind on his skin, until he stemmed himself up. He struggled to get away from the shore with his clothes clinging to him, making moving a very unpleasant affair. Shivering he almost wanted to get back into the water, because it suddenly seemed as though it had been less cold than outside. He knew that he would never go anywhere near deep water again if he could somehow help it though. This had been a horrifying experience.

It was a muddy and bedraggled vampire that continued on his way. He didn't want to use another charm to clean himself, because he feared he was truely reaching his limits and coming close enough to the river to clean himself with water was completely out of the question right now.

When the sun finally rose he reached the borders of a very different forest than the other darker one.

In the moonlight the trees shown a silvery colour and had glowing leaves. The ground underneath his feet was not covered with the thorned underbrush he knew all too well from the Forbidden Forest, but covered with still healthy-looking fallen leaves with lush grass and flowers peaking through. He noticed with even greater surprise that he could hear _animals_. Few of course as most things would be sleeping at this hour, but there _were_ animals none the less.

Passing the first smooth trunk he thought it was as though they knew he was not as bad as their instincts might tell them. _"Or they simply never had to fear anything here and don't recognise the instinctual fear of me that they are feeling," _he thought somewhat guiltily.

Harry soon had other thoughts running around his head though. He was having a feeling that someone was watching him. Something was hiding in the trees, watching him. He was sure and the cursed wizard could tell it was _not_ the animals that were watching him so keenly.

There was a sound to his left and before he fully spun around in that direction he could feel people land on the ground all around him, blocking all chance of escape with bows drawn threateningly.

Suddenly one came forward, holding himself in such a way that he was unmistakably the leader of the bunch. Harry first assumed it must be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but it was actually a man of slightly androgynous beauty and he felt himself blush at his earlier assumption. The people surrounding him looked very much alike with their high cheekbones, long legs, fine, blond hair, pale skin and lean, yet muscular bodies.

What really struck him though was that the man looked at him with a disgust and hate that was unrivalled even by Snape.

Harry put one and one together and figured the person in front of him knew what he was. _"I'm slowly beginning to suspect a certain old coot has been tattling." _This scared Harry a great deal, because he knew he had left Isengart far behind and if Saruman's lies had already reached this far, he was in greater trouble than he first thought.

The man approached him cautiously and finally said curtly his eyes burning with distaste as he examined him: "We are here to escort you to the Lady of the Woods for questioning. You will be blindfolded before we set out."

"_So he thinks I'll just follow him like a good puppy? How naive..."_

The man came closer and seemed to tense more the closer he came to him, just like his companions, who although wearing emotionless masks, strengthened their grip on their intricately-carved bows. Harry smiled all but innocently when the man stood before him, producing a black piece of cloth. If the blond had been a lesser man Harry was sure he would have trembled, but as it was the man could have given every Slytherin a run for their money. His face was perfectly masked with his dislike for the undead creature in front of him. As the man raised his arms to put the piece of fabric over Harry's eyes, he reacted almost as fast as the soldiers had appeared earlier, grabbing the man by his shoulder in a hard grip he spun him around to shield his front with the man. Immeadiately he felt the almost anticipated excruciating pain of several sharp, long objects, piercing into his back. He screamed in pain and unconciously increased the pressure on his victim, who only gasped as his bones protested loudly.

He snarled furiously at the people now watching, expecting him to fall to the ground any second, "If you do that again I'm going to kill him! Now let me go and nobody is going to be hurt, understand?"

It looked to him as though they didn't, because they didn't batt an eyelash, although they gave furtive glances in their blond leader's direction, who had still not stopped his struggling, but although he was decidedly stronger than a normal human, he had not nearly enough strength to break out of the vampire's vice-like grip. Harry began walking backwards slowly although he could feel another round of arrows enter his back. As it was still screaming with the pain of the first volley, he could almost ignore it anyway. _"Those idiots are digging their own grave!" _he thought miserably, as he had to start making a concious effort to keep his instincts at bay.

There was the sound of metal against leather and he had less than a second's time to pull not only himself put also his hostage out of harms way, as the sound of air being parted roughly followed. "Are you crazy! You would have killed your own guy!" he yelled at the man, who was brandishing his sword in fear and now there was no denying it; the formerly seemingly emotionless squad _was_ terrified. Harry was amazed that he had still been able to dodge that swing and was able to talk without serious problems. He was just now beginning to realise what vampires could truely do. He wasn't even spitting blood although he had internal wounds that would have easily killed a mortal on the spot!

Seeing no other way, he abadoned his hostage and throwing all caution aboard simply ran as fast as he could back to the edge of the forest, having to duck under various swords in the process, receiving shallow cuts and losing many strands of hair and only managing not to lose any body part, esspecially his only unreplacable one, by pure luck.

He heard the alarming sound of arrows being nocked and he figured that he would soon find himself in a bloodbath, but the yell of "_Daro_!" which he assumed was a command to shoot, only followed the sound of weapons being replaced in their holders. They started persuing him though and they were fast and persistent. He tried once or twice to gain speed, but he couldn't run like he normally could with the arrows jarring against each other, whenever he moved. He was actually very proud of himself for still being able to move at all and not simply giving in to the monster within him, yet.

So hoping to lose his persuers the conventional way Harry turned in the direction of a mountain range in the distance.

"I'm stranded on the World of weapon-wealding idiots," he hissed furiously, trying to keep from thinking about the many arrows stuck in every – if he were mortal- vital part of his body, that was accessable from his back and sides. It was on this journey that he for the first time truely understood just how resourceful vampires were. He even gained a little ground on the mortals.

When he drew closer to the mountains he became aware of a delicious scent drifting up from what he could swear was the ground. He was unsure what it smelled like though.

Finally he found the place the redolence was coming from. It was a small hole between two rocks, which he could just squeese through. Hoping his persecutors didn't see him, he sank to his knees, letting his legs dangle from the edge and finally wholely descended into the darkness. It was deeper than he thought it would be and although the entrance was small it largened soon. Deciding it would be better to hide deeper in what he realised was not a small crevice but a cave, he climbed down.

When he finally reached the bottom of the cave, he couldn't see a thing despite being in his vampire form. He could tell though that he had greatly underestimated its size, as his ears could tell him by the long-lasting echo of his feet touching the floor and the sprinkling sound of the small stones he had lousened from the wall. He also found what was giving off the delicious scent, he had smelled even from far above. He finally let go of his humanity and drank greedily from the thing that must have died a rather gruesome death not too long ago.

His need for blood must have been great indeed, he decided a short time later, as the delicious scent and taste turned out to have been an illusion created by his thirst and gave way to the most disgusting thing he had ever smelled and drunk. He didn't stop though, but gulped down the disgusting liquid of the dead something. He was still too thirsty and he knew he would need it once it came to plucking out the feathered appendages from his back via magic.

When he found no more of the thick, far too metallic-tasting blood, he scrunched his eyes shut steeling himself. He took out his wand and muttered the incantation of a strong banishing charm, crying out in agony as the arrows were blown from his body. The pain was his least worry in the next moment though, as an ear-splitting screech joined his voice. _"Oh, shit... Of course! Bloody corpses don't fall from the sky!"_

He hurriedly scrambled up from his kneeling position and tried to see despite the complete lack of light in this depth. Seeing the futility of that attempt, he sniffed trying to pick up the scent of whatever had killed the something he had just drunk from, but the air was filled with the strong odor of said victim. Suddenly there was a scraping noise to his right and he whirled around in this direction, swinging out his fist. Another scream very much like the former shattered the silence of the caves, as his fist connected with rough leathery skin and he could feel bones break under his knuckles.

Something fell to the ground with a dull thud. There was no sound of something scrambling back up. Angry and surprised shouts in a language he didn't understand, filled the air, closely followed by the increasingly familiar swishing sound of swords being drawn. Then lumbering footsteps thundered towards his general direction. He smirked, realising they could see as little as him with this absolute lack of light, so he used the soundscape to creep a little away from his spot; just enough to confuse them a little, but his foot hit something hard and so sharp that it cut through the fabric of his shoes without problems. He couldn't hold back a slight hiss, as his skin was cut effortlessly. It unfortunately didn't go by unnoticed. There was a triumphant cry and on pure instinct Harry groped around for the handle of the sharp thing he hoped was a sword, cutting his hand deeply in the processs, but still managing to bring it in front of himself, letting his first foe run right into it. The second managed to sneek up on him and gave him a nasty slash across his back. With a lot more strength than he thought it would take, he pulled it out of his either dead or at least unconciouss enemy, clumsily swinging the sword at whatever had attacked him from behind, using his strength to make up for his lack of skill. It didn't earn him one, but two pain-filled shrieks and thuds, but one was decidedly too soft be a whole body and just to be on the safe side he struck for a second time in that direction, which earned him yet another scream although it was far shorter. As he pulled back he was rewarded with the desired sound of something lifelessly hitting the floor.

He listened closely for another enemy hiding in the dark and found a faint rattling breath, coming from the ground to his left. He silenced it with a last awkward hack of his sword and after a while all that remained was a dull echo.

The vampire smirked despite the great pain he was feeling, as he realised that whatever he just killed, now smelled almost exactly like the thing he had drunk from. They were edible.

Much time passed, without anything noteworthy happening in Harry's life and he relished in this. In the beginning he had of course been planning to simply let grass grow over his mishaps, but after a while he gradually grew fond of the place, where he could truely behave normally - at least for a vampire.

He still intended to one day go back up to see the sun again, but that could wait. He wasn't too keen on seeing humans again and these caves that he by now had figured out had been once used to live in and for mining, was an idial place for him. He assumed that the former inhabitants had been killed and driven away by the beasts, he was hunting, as the caves were in some areas filled with skeletons that didn't belong to them, but he couldn't be sure.

For him though it made little difference, so he didn't dwell on the fate of the former cliff dwellers' fate for long, although he found it amusing in an ironic way that he had turned a race that had once eliminated so many of a race into prey. And he _had_ done that quite successfully as well, by dedicating his whole life to the hunt.

When he found a group of the creatures, he now called Cavians, he tried catching one of them alone, then killed it and drank its blood. After continueing this until the whole group was zeroed out, he would go in search for the next unfortunate creatures.

The problem was finding them in the complex cave system. He sometimes found himself deprived of food, until he could hardly think straight any more, so it came as an appreciated surprise, when only half a day after being done with a group of a partnering pair of Cavians, Harry stilled and could hear very faint noises. _"The echo of footsteps!"_ He could distinguish about three different sets. _"A small group..."_ He frowned, noticing that they sounded different than they usually did, but shrugged it off nochalantly, knowing the echo often played tricks on his hearing, so he could never trust it fully anyway.

Licking his lips, he decided to climb to a higher level and seek out his prey.

The dark creature walked on a narrow passage a few metres above the normal path, until he noticed the group was walking in his direction anyway. He crouched and stilled waiting, so if he made a mistake in his earlier estimation of the size of this rout, he would be able to remain unseen and simply let them pass.

He could hardly surpress a gasp of surprise though when a dully-glowing dot of light penetrated the darkness in the far distance.

The creatures seldom carried torches and when they did it mostly meant that it was a more skilled, bigger band, who used them as symbols of power, but staring a little longer transfixed by the light, he could tell that whatever was carried down this corridor was not a flame. It didn't flicker, but remained a steady constant glow instead.

After a short moment listening half-heartedly to his frantic voice of reason, he couldn't help creeping a little closer curiously, throwing all caution out of the window. The source of this light could turn out to be a danger, if the group turned out to be way too large in number.

As the shadows parted slowly, driven away by the dim light, all Harry could do was stand stock-still with his mouth slightly agape, as he beheld what was walking the stone corridor. It was definitely not a group of Cavian warriors, who bore a slight resemblance to the beasts of Isengard with their leathery skin, felted hair and short, overly muscular body. No, although the creatures were not very alike at all, all had -in comparision to the Cavians- light and soft-looking skin, more or less well-kept hair, wore civilised clothing and weaponary and while they did have battle-worn eyes they didn't shine with the malice the cave-creatures's eyes held.

Harry could not believe it, but there was no denying it either, wandering around in the most deadly place he had ever come across were humans.

All the vampire could think in that moment was what they would do once they became aware of his presence. As they came closer he made a rather absent-minded small reassasment: They were all human-like creatures. At least one was definitely not human. It was a big, muscular dwarf.

Surprisingly the company simply passed seemingly not noticing him and the men were almost ten metres away again, when he came out of his stupor and realised that the light would only be enough for _them_ to see a little beyond their feet.

This left him in a difficult situation. _He_ had to decide what happened next. He was not an idiot (unlike the caves' guests) he knew that the light would not only draw his attention, but all of the caves would soon be after the group, as it was an extremely seldom sight and after the Cavians had to eat each other for such a long time, the people were as good as dead if they were found.

Thinking back, recollecting his memories of the companions' nervous faces, he began moving. He was still no monster and would make sure that at least the children left the mines unscathed. _"Who in their right mind takes children into a big dark cave system..?" _"Somebody who has no other choice," he responded to his own silent question, as he sped up to catch up to the small company.

He rounded a corner they had just dissappeared behind, when a disturbingly familiar noise filled the air and he had to thank the Cavians for sometimes carrying bows, that he didn't make the charming accquaintance of an arrow, which came flying towards his head. Instead he just managed to dodge behind a salient rock for cover letting the arrow splinter on the hard wall it hit. An after the former silence defeaning sound of metal against rock and the resulting multiplied echo stopped everyone from taking further action.

For a second all just stood there stupefied, then realisation slowly sunk in that this must have been heard in a _very_ wide radius. Previous incidents had shown Harry that when such things happened there was only one thing you could do. He whirled around and was about to bolt, when he looked back at the group that had already lost interest in him and was taking the hint to get lost. Unfortunately they seemed to intend to stay on their path and hope for the best... They probably only knew that one way and rather stayed on it and risk a fight than losing their orientation. Not that the vampire could blame them. He mostly strayed around the system of caves, too, but he incidently knew this area more or less well, as this was one of the best hunting places, since food was plenty and he had a good hiding spot. Unfortunately the fact that he had a lot of prey here also meant that these people had lot of foes.

Cursing his hero-complex, which he had hoped to have squished in favour of some sense and agely wisdom long ago, he jumped down from the raised path and ran after the little party of lost campers, yelling, since it no longer mattered anyway, "Stop, you idiots!"

Surprisingly the children did halt out of what was probably surprise that he _could_ speak, which forced the others to head back for them.

Immeadiately weapons of all kinds were raised and the children that the other men had seemingly let tag along for the walk through hell were enclosed in a protective half-circle. With a glare he noticed the dark-haired, clean man, who held a bow, making a mental note to somehow get back at him later. As said man caught the eyes of an old man, who appeared to be the men's leader, he received a shake of the head, which Harry suspected meant, '_No, you are not allowed to kill him...yet.'_

"Ask whatever questions you may have _later_, we are going to receive unwanted company here soon enough, so if you don't want to be some really ugly beasts' dinner I suggest you follow me _now_!" With that he turned around and ran towards one of the very few safe havens he had created in the caves, dimly registrating that after a short while of silent discussion the group had followed him as fast as they could, probably realising that they had hardly any other choice.

Running along the wall, he searched with a sharp eye for his mark and when he finally found it he only waited for a moment to also let his slowest followers catch up, until he under their doubtful and suspicious eyes, muttered too low for the others pick up, "Hogwarts." The wall slid apart slightly to become a very narrow entrance in the wall. Exasperated when they didn't move immeadiately, he none too gently herded the stunned and slightly (or strongly, not that he noticed) protesting mortals through.

The room was filled with the gasps of muggles, who are subjected to magic for the first time in their life, as they beheld a dimly lit version of the Gryffindor Common Room.

**_AN.: I am aware that the elves kinda have a shoot-now-ask-questions-later attitude in this chapter, but gods this is war! Do you honestly expect them to go, "Hi, stranger! We have no idea who you are and you could therefore very well be a spy of the enemy, because let's face it Lothlórien and Moria are _so_ out of the touristic business, but come on, let's drink some tea and talk about lots of important stuff you could use against us!"_**


	5. Many Meetings

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**Warning for this chapter: **Blood (Like always...)

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 5 – Many Meetings**

Ignoring the tense silence the vampire surveyed the strangers he had picked up. The group looked around the beautiful room with incredulous looks, probably thinking this was just _displaced_ in a cave. They probably had if anything expected another dark, damp stone-chamber, when he had shoved them through the entrance. Just to unsettle them a little more he smirked wickedly, saying cheerfully and mock-conversationally, "I hope you like it. It's my favourite room. It took me years to make all this. Or rather I _think_ it was years. It's kind of hard to keep track of time when you are underground."

Groaning internally at their lack of reaction, apart from a few scattered, raised eyebrows from those, who had even comprehended what he had said, he used the time to study them more thoroughly as they did the same to him.

Noticing that some had their hands dangerously close to their weapons again and were only waiting for a signal from their leader, he quickly counted them, trying to judge how stupid he had been to take them here. There were nine of them. It worried him a little that he was so seriously outnumbered, but he reasoned with himself _if_ anything went wrong, he would be able to use their current confusion and the fact that they knew nothing about his abilities to his advantage. His patience growing thin he finally made another attempt to break the silence, this time not even bothering to beat around the bush. "Would anybody bother to explain, just who you are and why you are here?" He demanded in a still more or less polite tone.

It was the dwarf that replied in a tough, threatening voice, which most likely only served to hide his fear, "We could ask you the same question, stranger."

"Oh, really?" the vampire's former rather civil manner had slipped and was replaced by one just as menacing as the dwarf's, "Well, considering this is _my_ home, I do think I should know whom I had to invite in to save their heads from making the unpleasant acquaintances of some rusty swords."

Bushy, red eyebrows sunk down to turn a suspicious frown into a fierce, insulted glare and Harry was sure he had not only angered the dwarf with his prediction of what would have happened had they not sought refuge, but before a fierce fight could break out someone said, "You may call me Gandalf – Gandalf the Grey."

Harry turned to face the speaker a little baffled that someone in this group had finally shown some manners. His gratitude was cut short when he realised what this old man was and the vampire had to keep himself from showing too much of his inner turmoil. He feared this man and wasn't ashamed of it. Wearing a blue, pointed hat, a long grey cloak and a silver scarf, that was half-covered by his long beard, he held a long staff in his right hand, as though to erase any doubt left in Harry's mind that he stood in front of another wizard. It was so obvious that he could only wonder why he hadn't noticed this far sooner. Harry gulped nervously, as he realised that this might be a friend of Saruman whom he had not managed to forget during his peaceful time in the mines.

Deciding not to give anything away, Harry remained silent and tried to keep an expressionless face.

The wizard waited for a few moments for someone else to take over the introduction, but nobody followed the old man's example. Everyone seemed to only want to stare at him, which made Harry conscious of his ragged, dirty and most likely stinking state. It was obvious by the grey-clad wizard's slightly disgruntled tone that he had expected at least his companions to show the maturity of trying to evade a confrontation. Continuing with Harry's new, least favourite person in the group, although this didn't mean all that much considering he didn't know the others at all, the old man said, "This is Gimli son of Gloin."

Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the pompous way these people introduced themselves and again when once these words were spoken a thick silence hung in the air once more. The vampire, quite sick of this game, was about to speak up, when another man decided to take over, "I am Boromir, Captain of the White Tower." _'Yeah. Good for you. Whatever that means...'_

A very tall man with grey eyes and a hard face, whose shaggy, black hair was beginning to sprout its first silver strands, muttered, "Call me Aragorn." _'Wow, finally someone down to the point. I like the guy already. All this flashy speech is seriously getting on my nerves.'_

A pretty-faced man, who towered over him like his serious friend and who was almost unnaturally clean, as though he had just stepped out of the shower and not a dirty mine, bowed out of what could only be years of enforced etiquette rather than true politeness, because his eyes spoke volumes. He _knew_. The man had _felt_ it. As the brown-haired man spoke his voice was musical, but far too cold to be called pleasant, "Legolas of Mirkwood. It is a pleasure to meet you." The man had managed to impress Harry by saying the word "pleasure" without the barest hint of sarcasm, although it was obvious that he was anything but 'pleased'. _'Not that a sarcastic tone would be needed to get his point across,'_ Harry reflected shuddering. _'That man's voice is like ice!' _Harry frowned. The man was acting as though _he_ had tried to shoot _him_ for no reason whatsoever and not the other way round.

The children, who were safely guarded by the dark-haired archer and his friend Aragorn, who still seemed to be itching to draw his sword, took this as their sign to tell him their names.

The tallest of the boys, who was quite thickset, said bravely, "Samwise Gamgee is my name, mister." Harry stared at the little guy for a long moment, which seemed to make him uncomfortable, despite his earlier courageous front, but the stunned man hardly noticed this. The little boy's voice was not the squeaky high-pitched voice, children usually have. It was deep like an adult's.Suddenly the man noticed that all the kids had rather mature features, bare feet with thick hair, that they had the proportions of grown ups and the slightest point at the top of their ears.

Blinking when a restrained chuckle filled the room, the vampire turned to the foreign wizard, "I take you it have never encountered a hobbit before?"

"A what?" Harry asked annoyed that the man was right.

"A hobbit or halfling as the race of men often calls them," the man repeated, his eyes twinkling in an all-too familiar fashion. "Quite fitting as they are a people about have of our size, when they are grown up." Harry decided to ignore that at the 'our' some of the room's occupants couldn't help but snicker or smile, because the vampire was, in contrast to the other man in the room,_not_ twice the little ones' heights.

Realising that the 'kids' were in fact only not human, Harry cursed inwardly, because he had on a big part decided to help them, because he didn't have the heart to let _children _die. Deciding to keep this to himself, Harry raised an eyebrow at the last three, unnamed _men _in the room.

The shortest hobbit, who had blond, curly hair and some kind of aura about him that spoke of a lack of maturity introduced himself cheerfully, obviously already having decided that he was no threat, "Peregrin Took, at your service, although everyone calls me Pippin."

Harry couldn't help stare incredulously at the seemingly obvious being that offered him, a complete stranger and not to mention possible enemy his nickname and on top of that choosing an introduction like 'at your service'.

The slightly awkward moment was broken by a hobbit, who had an intelligent glint in his eye, sending the other one a scolding look, as he said, "My name is Meriadoc Brandybuck."

Harry's eyes fell on the last member of the group and he noticed that all others tensed when his eyes landed on the nervous being who was the second tallest of the halflings and had bright eyes and a distinctive scar on his chin. The dark man, who had a hard fate himself, couldn't help but note the way the little one carried himself. It looked as though the world rested on his shoulders and the boy-who-lived had to wonder whether this was actually the case. In a surprisingly bold act the little man sought his eyes before speaking in a clear voice, "Frodo Baggins. Thank you for helping us."

Eyebrows shot up in surprise, as the vampire had not expected to be thanked for helping them. He had long ago realised that most people were ungrateful by nature. Smiling slightly at the virtuous little fellow, he extended his hand for the first time and received a startled but warm and surprisingly strong handshake, as he said, "Harry Potter, pleased to meet you."

The tall man's eyes lit up in realisation. "So you are from Bree." It was not really a question; more like a slightly doubtful statement.

"What is Bree?" Harry asked confusedly.

The man looked close to groaning. "It is the only place where men use last names and are about your size."

"He is not a child of men Aragorn," the older man told his friend sighing slightly, while he gave the dark creature a penetrating look. "At least I have never encountered one, whose eyes penetrate the darkness with an inner red light."

Harry winced suddenly sure this would end really badly. He had forgotten how suspicious his vampire-form looked to the forces of the light. Suddenly grateful for the dim light that had obviously been enough to cause his body to change, he tried to think of a believable excuse. "I have no idea what you are talking about..." _'OK, not really a great excuse, but maybe the other guys will believe the old man is starting to see things?'_

Frowning at him in anger, the old man responded, "Is that so? Then if you are of the race of Man, how have you been able to find your way here? Or as you said _make_ this?" He made a wide gesture around the room.

"I-Erm..." Harry cut himself off. Looking around the room he searched for an excuse that would at least serve to shut the man up. Since he found none, he simply put on an annoyed front and played his although small trump card. "I won't let myself be interrogated in my own home!" He hissed more annoyed than he really was, as at the moment nervousness dominated his feelings. He walked past the hobbits and plopped himself down on the couch in front of the fireplace. He snarled at them with his back to them, "If you want to question me, well, just go away and get eaten by some Cavians!"

Not having expected any of them to be dumb enough to take him up on that offer, Harry flinched, spinning around when he heard one of the man opening the door forcefully. Boromir all but slammed it shut, as a surprised grunt was heard, hissing, "Orcs! A great troop of them!"

"_Great_," Harry congratulated the idiot sarcastically, "Now we can wait a jolly few days for those persistent little critters to finally give up, because you showed yourself to them... or not. Wait a second in here, please. I'll be right back and this isn't going to be pretty."

Harry opened the door and was immediately confronted by a bunch of stunned Cavians. Not losing a beat he stepped fully out of the gap in the cave wall and feeling the change, drew his fist back, slamming it into one of the surprised beasts. The vampire was disappointed, when there was no satisfying crack of broken bones and he had to note that the change was taking more time, because light still fell out of the open room.

He had no time to check whether he was fully changed now, as a great deal of roughly forged weapons or simply bare fists were swung at him and he heard the unmistakable sound of arrows flying.

Using his superior speed, he ducked under the blows. Using the crowding of the mass of enemies against them, he let those, who had formed a tight circle around him, hit each other instead of him. A moment later he heard many beasts grunt in pain and the sound of weapons drawn from long sheaths of the kind the Cavians didn't use.

A moment later he caught a glimpse of one of his guests decapitating a rather big and muscular monster, before everything disappeared in the surging masses of bodies. He started slamming his fists and feet into anything that dared coming too close to him.

When the ranks were finally thinning, he could see one of the humans again every other moment, but there was no sign of the hobbits or the old wizard.

Finally the last one of the beasts was felled by the beautiful blade of the tall man, whose name Harry had forgotten by now.

He had to admit that he was impressed. While he himself had received various 'lethal' blows, the other men had at worst received a few nasty scratches, some fast-colouring bruises or in Boromir's case a rapidly swelling, sprained ankle, who was trying to keep his weight on his other foot, as he stared at Harry like the others in ever growing suspicion. Only Legolas was breathing normally and didn't refrain from yelling at him how stupid an action this had been - which he was quite ready to admit - for the sole reason that he just didn't have the breath left to do so.

It was the once more nameless tall man with the serious demeanour, who caught his breath enough to voice everyone else's thoughts, "A sole arrow was enough to sent you into a panic and lure a small battalion of them here and then you suddenly decide to start a skirmish that had probably been heard in all of Moria, you fool!"

Rolling his eyes and giving everybody a prompting look, he grabbed the man's shoulder more roughly than would have been necessary, pulling him back into the room. He was quite sorrowful to let so much blood go to waste, but saw no other way. After making sure someone closed the door properly, he proposed, "Why don't we all just sit down? Then we are going to answer _each other's_," here he gave them a pointed look, "questions."

Although he was relieved to see the hobbits had stayed in the room and hidden behind the sofa, he couldn't help, but frown at the filth the old man, who had obviously stayed behind to guard them, had produced. Five Cavians littered the entrance, getting the carpet dirty with their black blood.

"Well, how about you just sit down? It wouldn't be advisable to go out any time soon." The taller, more disciplined men, seemed content on remaining in their standing position, in which they could be ready to start fighting on a second's notice, but the obviously tired little ones took him up on his offer and scrambled on top of the couch that was a great deal too big for them, so he was quite sure that their feet dangled above the floor.

Stepping around the couch, he settled in one of the armchairs, giving the still standing men, who had yet to move, a look, that stated: _'Come on, what could I do against the nine of you?'_ They all knew now though that he _could_ hold his own against many enemies though.

It was quite surprisingly the silken haired man, who picked a seat first. He was fixing Harry with such a stare that the undead creature became uncomfortably conscious of his state. It wasn't just that he was soaked in blood, but he had to realise a long time ago, why the Weasleys didn't just repair their clothes magically, when they started to look old. After having so many repairing- and cleaning-charms placed on them, they had become immune to them, so his robes were literally falling apart.

"So who is going to start?" he asked innocently when the other men had all followed Legolas example. He received piercing glares that answered his question. He fiddled with his fingers for a while, trying to decide how much he should tell them, when he finally settled on the truth, just not the _whole_ truth. "Well, erm... As you can tell I have... certain _abilities_ other people don't. You probably know that people fear what they don't know, so after a while I was persecuted by a great many of people, mainly because -as you most likely already noticed- I look very frightening in the dark and they therefore assumed I was evil. Well, to make a long story short I found an entrance to these caves and made myself at home."

Ignoring the dwarf's outraged cry of "Caves!" the others simply looked at him disbelievingly.

Surprisingly it was one of the hobbits, whose name he had forgotten as well, that voiced their disbelief, "How did you to survive and how did you make_ this_?" He made a motion that encompassed the room._"What a perceptive little fellow... I might have I underestimated the little ones a bit."_

He again decided to tell the partial truth. "Well, I told you, I have certain 'gifts'... and well have you ever _tried_ eating those things?" He asked motioning towards the dead things on the floor. At their disgusted looks, he shrugged. "I admit that they don't exactly taste very good, quite the opposite actually, but you get used to it, if there is nothing else."

It was the older wizard, who changed the topic. "What are those gifts, you speak of?"

Now it was Harry, who gave the group a calculating look, before answering, deciding how much he should tell them, "As you have seen I am faster and stronger, than is quite normal." The vampire was quite amused to see looks in their eyes screaming, _'That is the understatement of the year,'_although they would never say something like that out loud. "And erm... Well... This room was made by magic over the course of a long time."

A lot of them gave a disbelieving snort and Boromir yelled, "You expect us to believe that _you_ can use magic and waste it to furnish a room with it!" Harry noticed that Gandalf, Legolas and Frodo had contemplative looks in their eyes. All of whom were probably dangerously good at picking up on a person's inner darkness.

Knowing he needed to show them that this was the truth, because if he gave them enough reason, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that he would find himself at the wrong end of nine sharp swords.

He placed his hand into his grimy pocket, revealing his wand that was now black with the Cavian blood, that had either been spilled on it or been smeared on it, when he touched it with his dirty hands. In the beginning he had tried to clean it, but it was just a losing battle, as this blood was horribly sticky substance. Thinking for a moment what would suffice to get his point across, but wouldn't be too costly, he pointed his wand at the pile of carcasses, banishing them. It was amusing how everyone jumped, startled.

The presumably youngest hobbit came over, poking the startling the surprised vampire's wand obviously fascinated by it, as he smiled at him and simply breathed, "Wow, that's great! Can you do any more of this."

Harry couldn't help return the smile, although he responded apologetically, "I'm sorry, but that isn't really something I like to use unnessecarily..."

"A wise decision," Gandalf murmured gravely, seemingly deep in thought, as he suddenly eyed him with a shadowed look in his eyes.

Harry looked at the others and noticed that all, but the dwarf and the hobbits, had suddenly quite similar looks on their faces.

Legolas gave him one of his usual hard looks, hissing, "You are the Dark Wizard..."

Instantly everybody, but Gandalf and the hobbits had their weapons at hand. Harry, who was by now highly irritated by the groups constant aggressive behaviour, snarled back his patience having reached its end, "No, I'm not a dark wizard! I cannot help being what I am, dammit! I have _never_ used the dark arts!"

Surprisingly Boromir was the one to respond to this. "What do you mean _a_ dark wizard? There is only _the_ Dark Wizard. One of the vilest creature in existence. A creature with the face of a boy, that drinks blood to preserve its youth." _"Oops, that is too close for comfort..."_

"You should lower your weapons," came a gentle yet strong voice from the couch. Seeing that Harry was not going to answer any time soon, when threatened, Frodo had obviously decided to have pity on him and laying his hand on Boromir's arm he made him lower his sword. Surprisingly a look from Frodo made everyone else put their weapons away as well and sit back down grudgingly. They kept there hands on the handles of their respective weapons though. It astonished Harry that the little one seemed to hold power in this group. "What exactly is the Dark Wizard? I have never heard of him," he directed this question at his friends and Harry silently thanked him, as he still didn't like to be the centre of attention.

Gandalf seemed to finally snap out of his deep brooding and opened his eyes, "The Dark Wizard, who was given this name, because he always wears dark-coloured wizard's garb," here he made sure to give the younger wizard a look that told him, the other knew that the rags he was wearing were the remains of his robes, "appeared twenty years ago near Isengard, where Saruman found him. He immediately sent out word to all races endangered by him, warning them of a beast with the deceptive features of a young man, which held great powers. Yet... Although this creature has kept my interest for quite a while, I have never heard of him actually killing anybody. On the contrary... Haldir is certain that the creature saved his life, when his younger brother Rúmil, who had just reached adulthood, panicked. It might just be that this creature had been denunciated by Saruman, because he was his enemy and not, because he was aligned with the Dark Lord. _"So they aren't friends of Saruman?"_

Seeing Gandalf suggesting, that Harry was most likely on their side anyway, convinced the others to simply let the matter drop. In retrospect the vampire felt guilty for never having quite the same trust in Dumbledore.

"So...", he said drawing the "O" long, "What about you? What are you doing here?"

The nine unlike friends gave Gandalf a look obviously trusting him to cut the truth. Harry wasn't naive enough to expect them willingly tell him more than he had given. "We need to cross the Misty Mountains and every other path was watched or barred for us," the man said nonchalantly and although Harry felt there was a little more to it than that, he decided not to pester the man for their reasons for wanting to make their across the mountains. He was beginning to rapidly tire of those little games they were playing, as he was quite rusty after -as the old wizard had claimed- twenty years of not using his skills in human interaction.

"How long do you think it will take for the orcs to stop searching for us?" one of the hobbits inquired.

"Not long. Now we only need to wait for the rest of the Ca-...orcs, that heard the battle to come and assume that a fight broke out among a few rivalling groups." Realisation shown in the taller mans' eyes and Harry could see some kind of grudging respect forming. "How long _could_ you wait out?"

Again it was Gandalf who answered. "I don't want to linger here any longer than necessary, but we are not short on provisions, so we could probably spare a day."

The vampire understood perfectly that they did not want to spend any more time than they absolutely had to in the deep, dark mines, so he nodded, shrugging. "That should more than do it. By then they should have found their fellows and well, filled their stomaches..." He hid his amused expression, as their faces were twisted with revulsion.

It quickly became apparent that his guests were all extremely tired, which was a good thing, because it put a stop to the uncomfortable silence that had spread over the room for the umpteenth time since they had met. As the others settled down to sleep, Gandalf volunteered to take first watch. Of course Harry did know that they were quite aware of the fact that nothing could enter the room, which showed that they were still wary of him.

As everybody had lay down and fallen into deep sleep, as Harry could tell by their deep, even breathing, the old man asked softly, so he wouldn't wake the others up, "Don't you want to sleep?"

"No," Harry answered curtly, but he did keep his voice down as well.

Silence filled the room once more and the old man looked away pointedly. It took Harry a very long while before he understood the silent offer the other was making him. Contemplating this for a very long time, he finally stood up and silently padded over to the door, opening it very slightly and checked, whether there was a Cavian anywhere near. Having to depend on your luck in hunt to survive taught you to never expect to be lucky the next day, so he drank the cold blood of the beasts nearest to the entrance, although he disliked having to squish even the slightest doubts the man might have had left in his mind concerning his identity. After a while Harry's thirst was stilled and he went back to the armchair he had sat in before.

The other wizard finally looked up from the spot on his robes that must have been highly interesting to keep his attention for so long. Opening his mouth, he spoke once more in a low voice, as though he had stopped speaking only a second ago, "You may want to consider coming with us. This self-imposed solitude," here Harry had to stifle a loud snort as his solitude was hardly chosen by him, "is not doing you any good. You need to face the world outside one day. Rather now, when you are not feared by the people, who are going to judge you, haven't grown up with their mothers telling them foolish stories about you to scare them into behaving."

Frowning Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had never considered that waiting all this out may not solve his problems, but increase them.

When it was the next person's, Legolas', turn, things became a lot more tense. Despite having been woken up in the middle of the night, the man was wide awake and his sharp eyes examined him like a scientists' would study something under a microscope. Something like the bacteria of a nasty illness they are trying to find a serum for example.

To hide his discomfort Harry returned the favour.

For a while the two simple stared at each other, until the brown-haired man finally averted his gaze, sighing. Satisfied the vampire looked away as well, fixing his gaze on some point on the ceiling instead. "How ironic," a musical voice breathed.

Harry regarded him out of the corner of his eyes and saw that the other's face was veiled by hair as his head was bowed. One could still tell easily that the other man was deeply troubled though. His eyes suddenly landed on something parting the curtain on either side of the man's head, but the dark creature simply filed this away to ponder at a later date.

"Your heart is tainted by darkness, yet..." Harry gave Legolas a guarded look. "Your soul is a child's."

He hissed, glaring at him, "What is it with all of you and calling me a child! I am almost two-hundred years old!"

Legolas made a silencing gesture, as some of the other guys stirred and turned over, but only one of them actually woke up. The tall, rugged-looking man gave him an annoyed glare, sent his friend a questioning look and after receiving a pacifying nod, that confirmed that Legolas had everything under control, the man went back to sleep.

"I am_not_ a child," Harry finally repeated, although this time in a silent voice.

The taller man stared off into space, as he spoke, "Yet you act like one."

Red-faced due to his injured pride, Harry remembered Hermione telling him similar things. Keeping his mouth shut, because he knew that protesting, especially if he lost his temper in the process, would only prove the other man's words, he sat in a huffy silence for a while.

"Elves are not too fond of the dark," the man continued. Once more his musical way of speaking was at odds with his words. "We love the stars and thus the night, but the dark is a thing we abhor."

"_Why, what a _nice_ fellow," _Harry commented silently, although he outwardly acted as though he had not heard the other man.

"Still..." the man continued now with unconcealed loathing in his voice, "Gandalf wants to give you a chance to redeem yourself. If you spoil that chance I suggest you do not hope for my mercy."

The rest of Legolas watch was spent in relative peace and when the other man went to wake the third watcher, Harry found out, why the tall, gruff man was so disgruntled at being woken up by him earlier.

The long-legged man sat up, one of his hand acting as additional support, propped up on the ground, while the other lay on his angled knees.

He like his predecessor stared at him and Harry would have yelled at him in annoyance if that wouldn't have only served to deepen the conflict.

Finally he decided, that since he was in the one place in the mines where he could take a bath he might as well get the grime of the past month off himself. This was the only one of the small chambers that he hadn't secured for himself for the sole reason that in a great area for hunting. Under the watchful gaze of the stoic watcher, he went past the other men towards a spiralling staircase, careful not to step on any stray limbs. In contrast to the staircase in the real Gryffindor Common Room, it lead down deeply and at the bottom didn't wait a round dormitory over-looking the grounds. The reason he had picked this specific room to be decorated with such care was that he had found a small river under it.

He hadn't bothered to take too many precautious steps in the tunnel, that the stairs into lead into, as nothing could possibly squeeze through the tiny hole the water flowed off through a little farther ahead. This had a second nice effect for him: The water was dammed there and a pool was created that was most of the year deep enough to bath in comfortably.

After he had followed the torch-lit tunnel for a while, he came to the small pool. Discarding his grimy clothes the vampire stepped into the water cautiously, shuddering slightly, since the water was very cold. When he had spent a little while rubbing the blood and dirt off he heard the foreboding noise of footsteps over the gurgling water.

Stepping out of the water he peered into the darkness, but couldn't really see anything, as he was in the shine of one of the torches.

An amused chuckle made him relax slightly, as he suddenly recognised who had followed him. It was just his nine guests, who had probably been informed by the tall man that he was doing something suspicious. It was then that the information sank in that he was still naked though and he all but jumped back into the shallow pond.

Harry gave the on the most part very amused men a withering glare, descending deeper into the water in embarrassment. "Can't someone have a moment of peace, here!" he snarled at them. Sadly his obvious show of embarrassment only served to sent Pippin ultimately into a fit of giggling and those of his friends in whose behind nothing seemed to have crawled up and died into dissolved into chuckles.

"You blush like a maiden, lad," the dwarf managed to guffaw out and finally even his two stalkers couldn't keep the restrained smiles completely off their faces. It didn't make Harry any less furious that he had helped cheering the two up though.

So with an angry scowl he sent them off with an imperious gesture and the semi-command, "You can take a bath after I'm finished if you want to. Now go!" He had actually not intended to tell them about the spring until now, because he had simply not thought of it, but he couldn't find a different way to tell them more or less nicely to get lost.

After Harry had washed the blood off his robes and heated the rock under them to make them dry faster, he was soon back with the others.

He couldn't deny that he was quite glad to find that the tension had somewhat lessened between them, the exception of course being who he rediscovered was Aragorn or Strider as the hobbits sometimes called him before correcting themselves and Legolas. Both were still watching him like hawks and although it was still uncomfortable, he learned to ignore them quite fast.

The group had by now realised that he had not really paid attention to the introductions and most were friendly enough to let their names slip inconspicuously, when they talked, so he wouldn't have to embarrass himself by having to ask again what they were called.

When it was finally time for the group to depart, after every member of the group had taken him up on the offer of washing themselves, Harry was given a lot of prompting looks, but he had no intention of going with them. He had done for them what he could or rather what he was willing to do and they would most likely make it without problems to the exit.

As they disappeared behind the corner at a brisk tempo, Harry smiled somewhat sadly. It had been nice for a change - for a short while. Having company after such a long time was sweet in retrospect, although he wasn't too sorry for never having to see Legolas and Aragorn and on some level Boromir, who while not really out-right hostile had been fearful of him, again. But the fact remained that he was content living in the mines. He even found out what it was called; Moria. A beautiful, dark-sounding name that fit the mines perfectly.

After a moment silence settled over the caves once more. The absolute silence when there was no living being around. After a while it was broken by the echo of a tentative step, then another and another, until Harry fell into a fast-paced walk, until he saw the group once more.

He tailed them for a few minutes until Legolas finally turned around, which caught the attention of the others, making everybody stop surprised.

Harry did not stop, as he passed the first few of them, keeping his eyes straight ahead, so he wouldn't have to see their broad grins. "I will accompany you for a while. There will probably still be a few Cavians, I mean _orcs_, near and I will notice them a long time before you."

Gandalf nodded humouring him. "Yes, we could certainly use your guidance, young wizard."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, hissing, "I am _not_ young!"

"Of course not, lad," Gimli placated him, not really sounding as though he meant it.


	6. The Ruin of the Dwarves

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**Warning for this chapter: **(Even more) Killing of poor ickle orcies. (What...? Orcs are very poor misunderstood creatures! _Really_!)

**Additional Information for those who 'want to know': **Those who read the book probably want to know where the troll went, as it wasn't killed. I just imagine that the orcs took the beast somewhere to cut the fellowship's way of escape off after finding out how strong they were.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 6 – The Ruin of the Dwarves  
**

The company now consisting of ten – actually still nine, who were now accompanied by a somewhat grudging scout – walked at a fast pace through the mines.

Harry would at times walk far ahead, under the pretence of scouting the way out, but he actually only sought solitude. After so many years of loneliness (He didn't really want to think of his food as sentient beings.), being surrounded by nine other creatures all the time was just too much for him.

The group hadn't been long in the mines at all, as he discovered, only having been in the mines for a few hours, when they were found by him. It startled him a great deal, when he realized that they had already managed to gain the attraction of _another_ of the three creatures in the mines that were not orcs.

It seemed he was not the only one who noticed the persistent patter, that tried to mimic an echo, but didn't wholly succeed. Frodo often whipped his head in the being's direction, but then he looked unsure of himself, as though he hoped he was imagining things. The vampire was beginning to think that the little one was far more adapt to the darkness than any of his friends. Maybe even a little too adapt for a creature untouched by the dark.

When they passed a wide arch with three passageways, Gandalf didn't know which way to go anymore and neither Gimli nor Harry could offer assistance. Not that he would have if he had known the way. He had some_one_ to deal with.

While the others made way into a room to the left of the arch, he slunk off.

He didn't have to walk very far to find _them_; Precious and Gollum. Although they were generally a silent predator, they were quite easy to track down, as Gollum was conversing with his other self, Precious.

Since he somehow pitied the ugly, babbling creature, that obviously suffered from Schizophrenia, he had formed a silent truce with him or rather them. The vampire didn't harm Gollum, if the treacherous creature stayed away from him. Considering that the 'two' had broken that unspoken contract first, he felt he had every right break his side of the deal, too.

He needed to teach the little beast a lesson or he could become a danger to Harry. Sneaking up on the unsuspecting creature, he grabbed and pressed him against the wall by his neck. He tried not to cut off Gollum's air supply completely though.

Baring his vampiric teeth threateningly, although the other couldn't see it, he hissed, "What are you doing here? Why are you following me?"

Gollum cowered as far away from the undead man as he could trapped as he was, but Harry showed no sympathy outwardly. When Gollum started opening his mouth to undoubtedly let lose a cry, Harry applied a little more pressure to the being's neck, knowing that Gollum often forgot to keep his tone down, when he was in a panic. As he watched the creature having to gasp for breath, he felt guilt wash over him, but he knew the creature was treacherous and having pity on him could prove fatal. "Tell me!" he allowed him just enough air now, that he would have enough to gasp out an answer.

Eyes wide with fear, the other wheezed out, "We wants our precious back!" Probably sensing Harry confusion, he continued, "The nasty hobbit, it stole it! He took our precious!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Precious' was as far as he had been able to tell until now Gollum's second personality. That was what he had been able to gather from the creature's rambling, on the occasions he had caught the creature unaware._ "How could one of the hobbits have stolen '_him_'? And I actually doubt they would do something like stealing..."_ Harry had to admit though that he still knew very little about the little ones and Hobbits in general. Still he figured Gollum must be having delusions, so he snarled forcefully at him, "I don't care! You know I don't like having you near me. Leave us alone or you are going to regret it!"

To Harry's great surprise Gollum began sounding more defiant, although he was still lacking precious air, "No! We needs our Precious! He steals it! Takes our birthday present, he did!" It seemed he didn't care any more if the vampire killed him if he didn't comply. He would obviously rather die than give his Precious up.

Finally reaching the end of his patience with the unusually recalcitrant Gollum, he ground out, "Listen if you don't run now, you will _never_ see Precious again!" With that he threw Gollum down the corridor, where he landed with a thud. There was the sound of him scrambling up, but the slapping sound of Gollum's big feet tripping away didn't follow.

Harry was about to _make_ him depart, when he suddenly stopped. There was a sound in the air; distant, but loud. Gollum and he shared no more words, as they both hurriedly made their ways in different directions. Both knowing well enough that noise was usually a bad sign._ "What is that?"_

It unsettled him. Something told him it was a signal and his mind was trying to convince him that it was probably just one of the usual fights among the orcs, so it scared him a little that he could not help but hurry back to the group.

Although he didn't know why, he was relieved to see everyone was fine, when he rushed into the room, making everybody draw their weapons in surprise.

To lighten the atmosphere a little and distract them from his embarrassing entrance, he forced a slight smile on his face and joked lightly, "Do you want to make this a tradition to greet me like that all the time?" Sadly they did not seem to be in the mood of joking, but they relaxed obviously relieved to see it was just him and at least Pippin returned the smile for his sake, although it turned out a little forced-looking. Taking this as an invitation, Harry went over to sit down next to the young hobbit, as it looked as though the other ones were a little annoyed with the boy, who was sitting by the door all by himself miserably, while everybody else was getting ready to sleep. Feeling somewhat curious, Harry asked him, "What happened? Did you do something wrong?"

The short creature shifted uncomfortably, seemingly feeling guilty. "Yes, I threw a pebble into the well. And something must have heard it splashing into water, because there was suddenly this hammering, as though something was giving others a signal."

Harry let a small amused smile slip onto his face. Of course he was worried like always when unnecessary sound was made, but his logical part told him that his fear was all but ridiculous. "You do know that stones fall down on their own sometimes? Also the Cavians," after a questioning look from Pippin he corrected himself, "- _orcs_ are not the cleverest creature to ever walk on earth and they'd need a lot of brain work to figure out the thing throwing that stone was _this _high up. I think they may not even be after us. The hammering can mean many things and it doesn't to need be a signal at all. I have yet to hear it here ever. The echo often distords sounds, so it may not have been a hammer at all; just some of those creatures fighting maybe. They do that all the time," the vampire rambled beginning to try to assure himself more than the hobbit as he was worried that although it may _really_ not have anything to do with the stone, the Cavian may be after them.

The hobbit looked at him, quite wide-eyed. Obviously stunned that the usually irritable creature was trying to consol him. Harry couldn't really blame him. He was just as surprised. Then he asked with a little doubt, "Do you really think so?"

Nodding to affirm this, Harry fell silent, relieved that he could at least take the _little one's_ fears away. For the first time the silence that settled about him and one of other members of the group didn't origin in unease, but rather the opposite. Not that Harry had any delusions that this meant a whole lot. It only indicated that the hobbit - the whole group actually was _very_ exhausted; otherwise Aragorn and Legolas wouldn't have let Pippin stay awake on his own in his presence.

Gandalf hadn't allowed the group to rest even a single time, bringing everyone to their limits and the vampire suspected that it had to do with him showing them that even the smallest slight could lead to disaster in the mines. This was probably also the reason they had been so harsh with the overly curious hobbit.

A small sigh drew his attention back to the aforementioned. The boy had closed his eyes halfway and his gaze was turning glassy, as it was fixed on nothing.

Trying to hide his amusement under a thick vile of exasperation, he huffed at the little fellow, "You might as well get some sleep while I take your watch." The hobbits were tougher than he had first assumed, complaining little about the brisk pace, although they had to take two or more steps for every of their friends', but once they were worn out they quickly dozed off on duty. It was becoming glaringly obvious that they were the only people in the group that weren't experienced soldiers. Least of all the overly trusting little fellow he was talking to at the moment.

"The others will be angry if I let you..." Pippin broke off uncomfortably.

Understanding that the hobbit didn't want to say the others wouldn't be too pleased if Harry was left unsupervised and knowing that was the truth, he smirked wickedly. "Well, you can just sleep here and I will wake you once something stirs or once the next person is supposed to take watch."

Despite what he said the vampire took the watch of the next person, Sam, too, deciding that Pippin could later claim that he had not been able to sleep because of the heat in the stuffy room, but when he was sure the third watch must have started a while ago, Harry knew he needed to wake Pippin, so he could rouse Aragorn. Harry couldn't help smirking slightly. _"It's Aragorn's fault for distrusting me."_

He was about to wake the little one up, when the wise voice of Gandalf halted him in his movement, "You needn't do that. I cannot find any sleep, so we might as well let them sleep even though you do not want to continue keeping watch."

Harry was just too stunned to give any coherent response, but flitting thoughts made their way across his surprise-clouded mind. _"I don't like that he knows that I'm warming up to Peregrin. Does that mean he really want me to watch out for their safety, while they are in the vulnerable state of sleeping? He trusts me enough for that already? No. Why should he have stayed awake then?" _The man simply confused Harry. The vampire dimly noted the disgusting smell of smoke filling the air and he had to force back the comment of it not only being an unhealthy habit, but also a highly nauseating one to a vampire, whose sense of smell is _far_ better than a human's.

A long time later Gandalf and Harry woke everybody else up and the old wizard explained that they would take the right path, since it was time that they went upwards again.

His companions' mood was lifting as the path became better and they could move swifter with less of an effort, although the path lead steadily upwards and they should have been tiring sooner. On the other hand maybe it just lifted their hearts to know that every step took them further up now; nearer to the surface and Harry was shocked to find there was a small bitter part of him that was angry, because it also meant that they were, although maybe only indirectly, looking forward to their parting. He had after all made it very clear that he was only seeing them off.

Finally they arrived in a high, big hall with a brilliant architecture that Gandalf illuminated for a short moment. Harry shot him a dark glare, which was ignored, as the others seemed to be stunned by its pure glory.

During the rest that followed after Harry made sure it was safe enough to gather their strength in the hall, they learned a lot about the dwarves and Harry found out that _they_ had been the miners, who found their doom in Moria. He remained silent though while the others talked, like he usually did, as he was beginning to suspect the group still hoped to find some survivors, hiding somewhere in the mines. His appearance had probably fuelled that hope further and the undead human didn't want to be the one quench that hope.

The mention of 'mithril' also interested him. It sounded like a substance of magical origin and this reminded him a little of his home.

The others slept a lot more peacefully that night than before. Especially Gimli, who had a small smile playing across his lips, making the Harry think that he dreamed of his people's past grandeur.

He hissed slightly when he saw a hole high up by the hall's ceiling, that let the barest of a sunrise's red light shine down into the hall and made his way across the hall to 'go scouting', so he wouldn't have to undergo a change needlessly, as the sun rose higher. _"We have to be very high up if there are 'windows' here."_

So under the watchful gaze of Legolas, whom the little light seemed to sadly give back his spirit and therefore overly alert nature, he left the hall.

He hadn't walked for long, when he heard a strange noise. It was loud, but still somewhat far away. It was the clinking sound of metal against rock and stomping feet and he would have usually run, but he was petrified, because it was _not_ sounding like three, six or even twenty orcs. It sounded like a whole army and for once Harry was _sure_ that the echo wasn't playing tricks on him. Finally a loud drumming beat started resounding in Moria and the whole mines seemed to tremble with the force of the resulting echo.

Finally getting a grip of himself with the wishful thinking that the rest of the Cavians would surely be attracted by the noise and try to attack the great force that was making its way towards the hall the group probably was still resting in, Harry ran back at high-speed to the place he had left them in. A horn was blown and the vampire stopped in his tracks once more totally uncomprehending as other horns answered the call.

"_But those things don't build armies! They may walk around in packs of four or five and on really rare occasion if they really have to three or four of those groups join to become troops of up to thirty, but that's it! The different hordes feed on each other! They do not all just band__together! That would cut off their food __supply."_ He almost ignored the small voice, that whispered, that due to him always eliminating entire groups, before heading off to find the next one, he never left any witnesses, so they never _had _a reason to build one big army before. It albeit small had enough reason to bring him back to his senses and make him continue running back to his companions.

Reaching the hall he found nothing. Forcing down his panic, he remembered that it had never really mattered, because he had always been able to find the group again sooner or later, but he didn't have the time for 'later' now!

That was when he heard the demented giggling, ringing in the air and looking around he was suddenly grateful for the dim light of the sunrise, because he got a clear view of his enemies, that were closing in on him. A moment later the swish of air was all the warning he got before an arrow hit the ground five centimeters in front of his foot, startling him, which caused him to stumble back a clumsy step.

The creatures used that momentary distraction to charge but the vampire was faster. In his fury he managed to regain his footing and deal out a lethal blow to an orc's head at the same time, noting that it looked like a disturbing mix between a Cavian and the creatures he had met in Isengard all those years ago. The next moment he had to deal with two other creatures, that took their fallen comrades place.

His ferocious and although clumsy effective style soon earned him many nasty wounds especially in his unprotected back and a slight opening in the ring his attackers had formed, because they were beginning to feel frightened by their opponent's unnatural strength and probably waiting for help. Deciding not to wait that long Harry used all his speed and agility to bust the monsters' line and run down a narrow corridor he didn't hear any sound coming from. He soon regretted it, because while his pursuers' tempo seemed to only increase, as their fury grew, he was slowly turning into his weaker, slower form and he was beginning to have trouble keeping out of the fire of arrows.

When he suddenly heard an arrow draw from just ahead and released in one swift movement, he closed his eyes keeping running in expectance of the pain of an arrow hitting him, but instead there was a high-pitched cry and the sound of a body falling to the floor.

Surprised he opened his eyes to find Legolas with his bow still in hand, targeting the next orc behind Harry and the others crowding around Frodo, who was lying on the ground, an enormous orc, whose body was almost completely covered in dark metal, lying dead before to him.

"You lead them here," the archer stated coldly.

"Shut up!" the vampire yelled, as the other let another arrow fly, not even pausing in his running once as he ran to the others picked Frodo up and took the lead of a highly startled group.

_Something_ was coming. He could feel that _'he' _was near and that was more than enough to scare him so much that he ignored Frodo beginning to try freeing himself from his grasp, claiming to be all right and demanding to be let down.

It was Aragorn who made him stop dead in his tracks. "How dare you come, after betraying us!" Surprisingly he sounded to Harry as though he was trying to keep the tone of betrayal from his voice. Harry had to grudgingly admit that if he had been in the others' shoes he would have thought the same. Going off shortly before an attack happened didn't speak in his favour at all and the vampire was surprised that he had yet to be killed; or at least an attempt to kill him had been made.

"Aragorn, if he wanted us harm there would have been many better opportunities for him," Gandalf said rather harshly. It seemed he was not the only one who could feel the change in atmosphere. His tone became somewhat commanding as he told all of them, "You need to trust him, because once you reach the bottom of the stairs I want you to only wait a moment and if I don't make it, follow him outside." He was as agitated as Harry now, as he gave him quietly the directions, "Take them down and right."

Receiving a look from Gandalf, Harry nodded understandingly and finally put the squirming Frodo down. He lead the others ahead, lightning his wand with a quiet "Lumos". He knew the look of someone appointing him to take over their unfinished tasks. Gandalf didn't expect to defeat _'him'_, which meant that he could only buy them time.

As Frodo, although he was in immense pain and a hindrance to them, stubbornly refused to let Aragorn pick him up, they could only make their way slowly. Nobody complained though. Even Harry, who was still as panicked as before, quietly hoped that Gandalf would be able to use the extra time this was giving him and catch up to them and that the younger wizard would therefore not have to replace the other.

They had been waiting for a few minutes at the bottom of the stairs and the vampire was about to tell his new charges to get moving, when there was a white flame and Gandalf came tumbling down the stairs, having to grab onto Harry to keep from falling. The old man breathed deeply, before he informed them, "I have done what I could. I have found my enemy and very nearly my end, but we cannot linger here any longer." In the younger wizard's direction, he inquired, "Can you provide light a little longer?"

With that they set off, Harry going ahead to light the way. He could tell that everybody was curious about what had happened up there, but Harry didn't really want to know. He could feel that they were slowly leaving behind the only thing he ever truly feared, besides the dementors and that was enough for him. Gandalf had probably managed to do something to hold him off.

After many more stairs they still didn't seem to be followed. But Harry knew better. Although he couldn't really tell where the he was now, he could still tell by the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach that the evil being was near and certainly not about to give up pursuing them.

When they reached the seventh staircase, Gandalf ultimately reached the limits of his endurance. He let himself all but crumble to the ground, panting heavily, telling them that he could go no farther even if all orcs ever to be bred were after them. Gimli took his arm and helped him from his position to the first stair so he could sit properly.

"What happened?" Gimli questioned, "Have you seen the drummer?"

"I don't know. I have met something I have never encountered before," he responded. "I tried closing the door with a spell and although I know many, they need time and can be broken with enough force. I could hear the orcs talking on the other side in their hideous language, but I only managed to pick up the word 'gâsh': It means fire. Then something entered the chamber. I could feel it through the door and even the orcs fell in silent in fear. It grabbed the iron ring, when it felt my spell. The counter-spell was horrible. It almost broke mine and for second it seemed the door would open. I had to speak a word of power and the door burst asunder. The walls and ceiling of the room collapsed and it was actually fortunate that I was thrown down the stairs." He sighed. "I have never felt this tired before." With a look at the wounded hobbit, he inquired concernedly, "How are you Frodo? For a moment I feared Harry was carrying a very brave, but dead hobbit."

Harry sneered slightly when Frodo gave him a glare, obviously not happy with him for ignoring his unwillingness to being carried like a baby. The mocking smile was soon all that covered his guilty expression, when he saw that the little one was right when he answered that he was covered in bruises, because Harry realised that they were not only from the fight he must have been in, but also from where Harry had held him.

It didn't take long before Gandalf, taking notice of Harry's disturbance, stood up, continuing their journey. Light was coming from ahead, but it clearly wasn't daylight. "Gâsh!" Gandalf muttered.

When they reached a hall with columns in the form of the trunks of trees, they saw a darkly amusing sight. The orcs had intended to trap them by putting a wide shaft aflame, but since they had come from a different direction the orcs had assumed they would, the monsters were now trapped on the wrong side of the hall.

That didn't mean though they couldn't be harmed by the beasts. The drums began beating again and they set off running, often being narrowly missed by arrows the mass of orcs fired from their side. Many of them found an unpleasant end, when Legolas turned sideways while running, shooting arrows without pausing and obviously even succeeding in hitting his targets despite the great distance with his small bow.

Suddenly they stopped before a great chasm in front of them. As far as Harry could tell it had no bottom at all. Seeing that only a very narrow bridge lead across the shaft, Harry gulped, as it had no banister and although the man, who used to play Quidditch with a passion, was by no means afraid of heights, he did not like the thought of crossing this small path.

Still he obidiently went ahead pocketing his wand, when he realised the light-spell was no longer needed, as the fires provided more than enough light. Following him were Pippin, Meriadoc and finally Gimli.

He turned around for a short moment, when Legolas let out a cry of terror. Following the other man's line of vision, Harry could see that something very big had managed to build a bridge across the fire. An uncountable number of orcs that immediately began making their way towards them with shouts of triumph.

But a moment later a very bad feeling told him that it was not this at all that had scared the usually unshakable man. _He _was near. He was making his slow way towards them, the lines of the orcs parting for him.

He was a big shadow and in its centre there was a vaguely human form, only far bigger. It seemed that the rest of his companions were finally able to feel the power and fright that the being seemed to wear around himself like a cloak, as they all stopped in their tracks - even those who were on the narrow bridge with him - to turn around and look at this new evil they were about to face.

_He _easily jumped over the massive rift in the ground, the flames seeming to caress him as he passed through them. His mane was set alight and in his hand was suddenly a sword of twitching fire, while his other held a whip with many thongs.

"A balrog!" Legolas cried, "A balrog has come!" _"Balrog... Yes, that name certainly fits__ it, although I cannot quite tell why."_

Gimli let his axe sink and didn't listen to Harry's command for him and the others to follow him to the other side, as the vampire grabbed the hobbits roughly and dragged them with him the rest of the way. The dwarf simply breathed in disbelief, "Durin's Bain!" and covered his face, as though the image was too much for him to handle.

A loud horn was blown and everyone even the shadow paused in their step, but when the last echo trailed off, they began their advance once. It still served to snap the fellowship out of their stupor though and Gimli finally ran to their side, Frodo, Sam and Legolas close behind.

Although Gandalf yelled at Aragorn and Boromir, who remained bravely by his sides, "Over the bridge! Fly! This is an enemy you cannot hope to defeat. I will hold try holding the bridge. Fly!" the two only went to the other end of the bridge. It looked as though they were hoping desperately that the wizard would follow them.

The others were waiting by the door on the other side, unable to leave without Gandalf no matter what he said. But Harry had not forgotten the silent promise he had made to Gandalf earlier this day. He would lead them out if the older wizard could not do so and it was beginning to look like he would have to take this duty after all.

The white-haired man backed away as the shadow came ever nearer, waiting for the balrog halfway over the bridge. Harry wondered what Gandalf was thinking, as this was probably the worst place for a fight he could have found. When the balrog arrived at the bridge, Gandalf was ready with his staff in one hand and his strangely glowing sword in the other, he spoke in a powerful voice, "You cannot pass!"

The balrog didn't answer. It was magnificent and terrible to behold with the shadows turning around him, seeming to form wings and smoke rising from his nostrils.

The orcs were now silent, letting their master deal with the force blocking their way, keeping a wide space to them.

As their leader continued in a voice that carried a force it shouldn't have been able to, after he been so worn out shortly ago, the company could only watch, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass."

Harry noted that he had spoken the words, 'You cannot pass' three times; a magical number. It seemed to be working too, as the balrog's fire died away and he didn't move, but as the creature's shadows intensified he broke free of Gandalf's restrains and could make it's way slowly towards Gandalf.

Realising he had underestimated his foe, the shadow creature seemed to be using his full power now and grew to a size about three time as tall as Hagrid with a wingspan according to that height. Harry was amazed at the graze with which the creature held himself as crossing the bridge was now a task to him of equal difficulty to a human walking across a rope. In comparision to that Gandalf looked small and vulnerable.

The balrog swung its sword in a violent arc, but he was met by Gandalf's glowing sword and to Harry's immense shock the clanking sound that followed was issued by _the dark creature's_ broken sword.

Although the old wizard had won that round, Harry noted that he was swaying dangerously, while the whole deal only seemed to have fuelled the balrog's anger and when Gandalf spoke it was in an almost soft voice, as though he was almost reaching his very limits, "You cannot pass." This was the moment he made a decision. He grabbed the two people nearest to him, who happened to be Mariadoc and Sam and pushed them through the door.

But his next actions were stopped as Harry heard Aragorn's cry of, "Elendil!" and Boromir joining him with "Gondor!". Turning around, he ran towards them, just managing to grab them and pull them back slightly before a white wall of fire made him look ahead, where the stone the balrog was standing was slowly falling away under his feet.

With a surprised cry the balrog disappeared and Harry was about to give a grin in relief at their hero, realising that everything had gone well despite all odds, when the old wizard was suddenly swept off his feet, went down and disappeared in the darkness so fast he was left stunned, unable to tell what happened. It was only after a moment that the echo of Gandalf's last words reached his ears. 'Fly, you fools!'

Narrowing his eyes, Harry dragged the two warriors off the bridge, that was slowly collapsing and following its other parts into the dark abyss below. He mercilessly pushed them all ahead, barely registering some of the resisting at first, trying to go back to the place, where they had just lost one of their friends. He didn't even let them slow down on the stairs, resulting in the hobbits and men, for whose legs these steps weren't made, stumbling more than once.

When they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves running down a broad corridor, the drums began droning through Moria once more and Harry tried making them run faster, but the hobbits couldn't so he grabbed two slowest of them around their waists. They were too numb to protest.

He had to set them down again soon as light poured in from up ahead and now it was him who legged behind a little as the others gave their last reserves to follow the shine. A light flooded hall opened around them and Harry only heard a pained cry, as the others paused barely in their step, as they passed a group of orcs, that cowered away from the slightly crazed people.

After climbing one last staircase Harry noticed a light breeze ruffling his tangled mess of hair and caressing his skin and couldn't help turning his gaze upwards to greet the sun, as though it were an old friend he hadn't seen for such a long time.

The vampire thought it should have been tears of happiness he was crying.

**AN.: Please review! If you readers review diligently, I will write like that!**


	7. Elves and the Dark

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**Warning for this chapter: **OO Almost no blood at all... Won't that effect the quality of this story negatively? Harry: "No. People will only stop reading it." Erm... TT

**For those who wonder why** Aragorn is suddenly treating Harry in such a different manner: He has taken on the role of the leader and he knows that in this position he has to keep everybody together and not cause arguments.

**And why **elves act so very not nice in my story: Well, for one they are quite stressed, when a vampire is present. Also in most stories they act like a race of Mary Sues, who can do no wrong and are always only beautiful, trusting and kind, despite living for hundreds (sometimes thousands) of years and certainly having seen their fair share of horrible things humans usually don't see in their comparably short lifetime.

**A big THANK YOU goes to WingsOfFate, because she gave me the idea for Legolas to be nasty again and even be helpful with it. **

**Chapter 7 – Elves and the Dark**

His vision turning red, Harry sank down to his knees, weeping. Images flashed in front of his eyes, as Gandalf's death evoked memories of the war, which he hoped he had buried too deeply to ever find again and he suddenly realised that he couldn't stay with these living beings, because everything that lives has to die some day and it would always lead to _his_ despair in the end.

Biting down on his lip to keep in the whimper, which wanted to escape him, he turned around and although he could hardly see it with his blurry, red sight, made his way back to the entrance of the mines which he had just all but fled.

He was almost back in the dark safety of Moria, when a startled cry sounded and a small, yet surprisingly strong hand closed around his arm, holding him back.

"You cannot go back in there! They will kill you!" the Frodo's voice cried beseechingly, tugging on his arm to make him turn around.

Another bigger hand was suddenly laid on his shoulder and Harry due to his emotional state only protested mildly, as it drew him back, away from the entrance. "Don't wanna see more death...", he muttered as he was pulled away from his sanctuary.

Suddenly whirling around to give the person who dared trying to keep him among the dieing a piece of his mind, he found he could not make a sound and Boromir seeing this, did something very unexpected. Drawing Harry close, the man comforted him, "You really liked him, didn't you?"

Ignoring the man's question, as the black-haired vampire himself did not know how the old wizard had grown on him in such a short time, he mumbled, "I wanna go home..."

Gimli in spite of his usually gruff way spoke quite softly, "I know how you feel, lad. This is my forefathers' home. My true home. One day we are going to return, boy."

"Just let him stay if that is what he desires," Legolas almost hissed, his musical accent contrasting sharply with his hard tone. "If losing a person he hardly knew, lures him back to his brethren, hiding away from the world is probably the best for him."

Untangling himself from Boromir, Harry hissed angrily, "What do you know! I have lost too many people as it was. I didn't need to witness yet another..._death_ to remind me of that!" Harry suddenly knew how the others used to feel every time they forced themselves to say 'Voldemort'.

Taken only mildly aback for a small moment, the brunette sneered. "You care about nobody but yourself. How many dear to you could you have possibly lost?"

"I have suffered for the sole reason, I know love! Don't you dare make fun of this!" Before Harry knew it, he was on top of Legolas with his fist poised to strike the man with a force that was still strong enough to kill him easily. Hot searing fury drowned all his thinking as he snarled at the other, "Let's see and I do apologise if I forget someone, as the list is rather long. First to go were my parents and the rest of my family apart from those three that hated me. Then a friend of a rivalry sort died as an innocent bystander, because he was in my foes way. When I was fifteen I lost my godfather, because he came to save me, after I was lured into a trap. Next to die was my mentor. Oh and did I forget to mention that the last three I had to _stand_ _and_ _watch_ die,just like today, unable to do anything to prevent this? Over the course of the next year about three quarters of my friends were killed fighting to keep our home safe, including my girlfriend, while I was away doing my own thing. Expect my surprise, when I came home after my business was done. Well, anyway..." Harry broke off. He just didn't know which death to talk about next. The corpses had piled from the moment he had returned to Hogwarts.Lowering his trembling fist, he allowed Aragorn to pull him off of the wide-eyed and deep in thought men, who hopefully at least had a big bump on the back of his head from being knocked to the ground. Harry knew if it had been dark, he would have killed the fool, with the impact alone.

"We cannot stay here any longer," the man finally told the group and raising his sword in salute towards the mountains, yelled, "Farewell Gandalf! How can we hope to succeed without you?"

With that _encouraging_ statement they set off, while Harry still sent Legolas dirty looks, not only for doubting his love for his lost-ones, but also making him reveal a part of his past in his fury, but something strange happened after a few moments, when Legolas thought nobody was looking. A self-satisfied smirk spread across his lips and Harry realised with no small surprise that he had been fooled. The guy had made him come with them with no more complaining. The vampire silently wondered whether he did this to help or to achieve a small victory against Harry. Either way the vampire was back to his senses and knew he couldn't return at the moment.

A light breeze blew by and the men's long brown hair was sent flying. Harry's eyebrows shot up, because he was sure that for a moment long, elegantly pointed ears had been revealed. Harry couldn't help staring blatantly at the man, examining his features closely. It only served to give more evidence that he may not be human. _"Do the others know? Just what is he if he isn't human?"_

When Legolas finally returned his look with an annoyed one, Harry focused on a point elsewhere. It was not really his business after all.

Boromir, who was still at his side, used this as his chance to talk, seeing that the dark creature had calmed down a little. He asked concernedly, "What is with your eyes? Do you feel any pain?"

"I'm OK," Harry muttered looking ahead instead of at the man, not really having listened to him at all. He was still a little overwhelmed by how fast everything in his life suddenly changed. Just three days ago he had still been alone in the mines after all and now he was in the sunshine with eight companions and had once more lost someone to death. Despite everything there was a small part of him though that thought that this was actually worth it.

"You are most certainly not. That is not normal Harry!" Harry turned his head to look at the other man taken aback, who was already quite embarrassed by his outburst, although the others had either not heard being far too deep in thought or were ignoring them in favour of their brooding. "I'm sorry. You reminded me of my brother for a moment. He always claims to be fine, too, even when he most certainly isn't. Now show me your eyes and let me see whether they have finally stopped bleeding." Out of pure surprise the vampire didn't resist when the man took a gentle hold of his face and stopped walking for a moment to examine his face. His eyes widened slightly for a moment and the man began walking again at a faster pace to make up for the short distance the others had crossed while they had stood still.

Harry became a little nervous as the other didn't say anything for a long time, although he obviously wanted to discuss something.

But when he finally opened his mouth a questioning statement escaped his mouth, that didn't really fit the man's usually confident attitude, "You were _crying_?"

Looking at the uneven ground of the path they were following, which had seemingly not been used in centuries, Harry made a non-committal sound, not knowing whether it was safe to admit the truth or not. He finally settled for being honest, as it was too late for anything else anyway, agreeing, "Yes, I do cry blood."

An uncomfortable silence followed, until Boromir questioned sympathetically, "Were you born this way?"

"No." As the man raised his eyebrow obviously wanting him to elaborate, Harry ultimately settled for a half-truth, "It is the result of a fight."

At this both of Boromir's eyebrows shot up in surprise, as the man wondered what could permanently hurt the lachrymal sacks, but the man let the topic rest, most likely thinking that Harry would explain it in his own time. It was quite the astonishing behaviour for Boromir, because he showed less patience with his other companions. _"I bet he has a soft spot for kids." _It should have annoyed him, but he was glad that the man didn't dig any deeper.

As they neared a single pillar not too far from the road, Gimli insisted on showing Frodo something called, 'Kheled-zâram', although both Aragorn, who had become the group's leader and Harry, who had become something along the lines of a herder, making sure nobody lagged too far behind, weren't too happy about losing time, because they knew the orcs would follow them soon.

As the road became more steep, they passed a fountain that flowed over with crystal clear, yet according to Gimli, icy water. He didn't really pay too much attention to Aragorn as he explained that the small stream became a fast-flowing river a little farther down, but when Legolas talked about his people who lived in the woods the other man was leading them to, he became highly aware of how suspiciously familiar his description of Lothlórien sounded. Harry remained quiet though, trying to hide his discomfort. According to Aragorn, they still had a long walk ahead of them, before the sun went down and the orcs started following them, so Harry was hoping the men in the forest were the smaller evil. If things didn't work out he figured he would have to face the arising problems then.

He also had other more pressing worries at the moment. Frodo and Sam were beginning to show that they couldn't keep up with the others. He soon found himself falling back with them, trying encourage them to keep the distance between the others and them as small as possible. Finally he called, "Aragorn!" causing the others ahead to halt in surprise, but soon realisation flashed across their faces and Aragorn acknowledged that the two needed medical attention. He and Legolas then carried the two hobbits, until they reached a flat spot where a small stream flowed loudly over its riverbed of silicic.

According to Aragorn it was three o'clock and although they were not even halfway to Lothlórien the sun had already started to descent. Still he took all the time he needed to care for the others' injuries.

After thoroughly examining the painful-looking slash on Sam's leg, he gave the hobbit a few dried leaves, that he was supposed to soak in the hot water, with which he would later clean his wound. It permeated a fine, sweet smell and didn't only seem to do wonders on Sam's slash, but the fragrance also eased everybody's pain and nerves, making them feel refreshed. It surprised Harry that the man seemed to be able to use plants with magical capabilities and he wondered whether he was a wizard or Squib.

When the wild-looking doctor took off Frodo's clothes, everybody turned to him in surprise, because he burst out laughing. "Look at this friends!" he wheezed. Everyone crept closer curiously and gasped, when they beheld the chain mail of pure, glittering silver and gems the little person wore. "What a beautiful hobbit-fur, to fit an elven princeling!"

Harry listened amusedly as they teased the blushing Frodo a little longer, but all their smiles vanished quickly when they saw the horrible blackish bruise the hobbit had on his chest and sides under the armour.

Although only Sam and Frodo had shown the pain they were in, as they had the nastiest wounds, the vampire noticed that the entire group was injured in some way. Boromir for example had worsened his sprained ankle that had been almost healed earlier and Merry had a gash on his cheek, that had to be stitched shut by Legolas, who turned out to be a passable healer as well. The others nursing each other back to health, left Harry to make their meal, feeling lucky that the ingredients Sam gave him were familiar to him.

When the meal was ready and the group sat around the fire, the others were a little uneasy about the food he had made. Not that Harry could blame them. They didn't know him very well and as far as they could tell he could poison them in the proverbial and literal sense. This suspicion was probably deepened by him not eating anything, but in the end their hunger won and they dug in and some even wanted seconds to Harry's great amusement.

After everybody had eaten their fill, the group continued their walk with a new burst of energy, as their wounds were now treated and they were feeling less exhausted. Even Frodo and Sam had little trouble staying with the others' pace.

The sun was setting in a pale pink horizon, when Aragorn wanted to rest for a moment. Harry was about to protest loudly, but the man surprisingly reasoned with him in a whispered conversation, "If we don't let them rest now, Frodo, Sam and Boromir, too will soon become a hindrance to us, because the state of their wounds will worsen. I'm actually impressed they managed to last this long."

Having to admit, when he saw how Boromir tenderly touched his ankle, trying not to allow anybody to notice his pained wince, he asked, "Do you have any more of this plant you used during our earlier break?" remembering how much it had helped everybody.

The tall man shook his head. "It was the last I had."

Looking at the tired men, Harry was suddenly beginning to doubt that they would make it before the orcs caught up with them, but a reassuring hand was lain on his shoulder.

Aragorn tried to smile sanguinely and guessing his thoughts, told him, "You needn't worry. We are making good way and will reach the borders of Lothlórien soon."

Voicing a fear he had had since Legolas described the woods, Harry asked, "What are the people in there like? Legolas said they were _his_ people, didn't he? Are they all...you know... like him?"

The man's lips twitched suspiciously, as he replied, "Well, they are all elves if that is what you mean..."

Harry was quite sure that the man had just made a joke, but he didn't get it.

Seeing that his tactic didn't have the desired effect Aragorn, side-stepped the question seriously, "I give you my word that no harm will come to you in Lothlórien if you don't harm anybody there." In a lighter manner, he said, "And you shouldn't think too badly about Legolas. Although he sometimes needs more time than others to warm up to strangers, he is actually very amicable."

"He must be _very_ good at hiding that," Harry muttered. Feeling eyes on him he turned around to see Legolas glare at him, as though he knew he had just been insulted. Loudly he stated, "We need to continue. The sun will set soon and the orcs are faster than we are in this state." He had wisely decided against stressing that it was actually just '_you_'. His eyes met Boromir's and Frodo's apologetically, because they were actually two of the three people he was beginning to like the most and who were suffering the most from the swift speed he and Aragorn set harshly.

When the sun had disappeared wholly from view the two had to restrain each other from making everybody simply start running towards the big grey shadow just on the border of Harry's and Legolas' vision, but finally after an eternity it seemed they reached the tree line of Lothlórien.

Yet Harry was not the only one to hesitate, when it came to entering the woods. It was Boromir who voiced, what he was thinking. He'd rather take a different way and the ashen man felt himself pale even more, when the man said that few left the woods after having entered them once.

Sadly Aragorn won this argument like always and tried to calm everybody by saying that only those who were evil or carried evil with them had to fear these lands.

Sharing a look with Boromir, the vampire knew that he wasn't the only one who was frightened that this may include them. _"After all who could confidently say, they_ _were untouched by all evil?"_

Looking at the ecstatic Legolas, who seemed to simply be glad to finally see the place his people once came from, Harry got his answer. Not that the vampire was quite sure the brunette should be so unconcerned. Their quarrels and even his form of 'helping' Harry earlier, had shown that he did have a darker side, too.

They hadn't walked far into the woods before they had to stop, because a river Legolas called Nimrodel blocked their way. He was still so horribly cheerful, telling them of his folks' belief that the water had refreshing qualities. Having walked halfway through the river, he suddenly turned back to them smiling. "Follow me! The water is quite shallow. We can wade across."

On the other side Legolas started telling them stories about Lothlórien that the _elves_, which Harry learned was the name of Legolas' race, still remembered. He also sang them a song about the river, which was called Nimrodel, that was as they learned named after an elf-girl.

When the story-telling turned to the topic of the Galadrim living on houses in the trees, Harry had to bite back a snort, as he imagined the elegant, almost arrogant-looking soldiers, he had met so long ago, living in a rough shed-like structure, like the ones he had sometimes seen muggle parents build for their kids.

Every thought of laughing disappeared when Gimli acknowledged that it would be wiser to be in the trees if the orcs caught up with them and Aragorn readily agreed, taking this seriously. _"What was the guy thinking? Not only are those trees virtually impossible to climb, being so smooth and having so few branches near the ground, but there is a big chance that someone turns over in their sleep and falls off!"_

Voicing his concerns to Aragorn, the tall man just smiled at the first problem, Harry had voiced, winking at an amused-looking Legolas, who jumped and easily caught a thick branch high above his head, pulling himself onto it. In a swift motion Aragorn grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him up, until Legolas was able to pull him up by leaning so far down he should have tumbled off the branch. Before Harry had even completely registered what was happening he was on the branch next to Legolas.

The tall men only lost a minimal amount of time to give the wide-eyed vampire identical smirks, before they grabbed Pippin and placed the hobbit next to him. The two were soon joined by Meriadoc, who sat on Harry's other side.

Then Legolas hopped fleet-footedly onto a limb of the tree that was at least one and half-metres away and placed Sam and Boromir on that one. Working like this, Aragorn and the elf had soon helped the entire group onto different branches of the tree.

When everyone wondered how Aragorn was supposed to get up now, the man leaped, kicked off from the trunk of the tree, when he was at his jumps' highest point, just managing to grab the elf's long outstretched arm and heaving himself up.

They were told to take turns sleeping and keep a good grip on the person next to them. It was obvious that Aragorn had made the sitting arrangements everything but randomly.

When Meriadoc wanted to make a plan of who should sleep when, Harry gave him an amused look and told him to go to sleep. Ignoring the protesting hobbit for a while he finally whispered, "Hey, look over there," he pointed over to his other side, where Pippin had fallen asleep, "If you continue babbling you're gonna wake him up and I have a feeling he's going to need his strength. I'll be alright, OK?"

The perceptive hobbit finally nodded, but he seemed to file certain information away for later.

In the middle of the night Harry suddenly found himself whipping his head from side to side, trying to determine where the feeling of being watched came from and hoping that it was just a curious or bored member of their group, but nobody was looking in his direction.

It seemed he was not the only person, who had a bad feeling, because his eyes suddenly met those of Frodo and soon he could see everybody inconspicuously wake the person next to them, so Harry followed suite and quickly hushed a moaning Pippin with a look.

Everybody stayed like that for a long time; alert yet trying to act as though they weren't aware that was someone there. Finally Legolas broke the silence, calling out in a strange, beautiful language with a voice that held a little urgency and alarm.

At first it seemed there would be no answer, but finally a single person, made his way down from higher up in the tree, but as he spoke to Legolas his eyes were trained on Harry. Meeting the warrior's familiar, steely gaze, the vampire suddenly realised why the man, no _elf_ seemed so unsure whether it had been a wise decision to have come closer. This had been his hostage. _"Reunion _at last_! I _so_ did _not_ want to see him ever again! Wait a second... Doesn't he look a little too much like - according to Gandalf - _twenty years_ ago? Maybe the old wizard mistook me for someone else after all? It didn't sound like that though. Maybe this blonde isn't the same one I met the last time I was here? He could simply be a relative of that person."_

Talking urgently and quietly with his kinsman the blonde kept the vampire pinned with his gaze. At least that was probably what the elf thought. The reason Harry actually sat stock still, was that with the two hobbits still slightly drowsy from sleep, he didn't want to move in fear of them making an unlucky movement.

Suddenly Gimli grumbled indignantly from next to Legolas, "It is impolite to talk about someone in a language he doesn't understand, you know?"

Harry imagined that if the two elves didn't pride themselves for keeping their emotions hidden, they would have blinked at being reprimanded for their manners by a being even Harry, who hadn't known him longer than half a week, could tell had no manners at all.

Finally talking _with_ Harry, the blonde said, "I see you have returned at last Dark Wizard. Time seems to have been kind on you," here he sneered staring in disgust at the vampire tattered robes, "although the same cannot be said about your attire."

Smirking in a very hostile and provocative way, Harry returned the derogatory look. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

The elf merely raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, "Really? It would seem that those twenty years haven't been quite as kind to your mind either."

Keeping his fury down, Harry merely raised an eyebrow and gave him a look stating he should keep it above the belt.

"Fortunately there are still some of my old marchwardens, who have not been driven to the east from fear of another encounter with you." _"He's talking like _I_ was the one shooting arrows around and wielding a sword like a madman and not his crew. Honestly!" _The blonde elf called up into the trees above to where his lackeys were probably hiding, "Thalion! Orophin!" Two elves came from the trees up above and Harry couldn't help raise his eyebrows, wondering how they found footing on the smooth, silvery rind. The two tense elves were given commands that somehow seemed to involve Harry, considering the blonde gave a pointed look in his direction, before the two hopped over at a respectful distance to Harry, very slowly inching closer, as though they expected him to suddenly attack them. It looked as though they wanted to take him captive, but were just too afraid to actually do it.

"That is quite close enough!" the surprisingly tough voice of Pippin snarled from next to him, balling his tiny fists. To the vampire's great surprise there came many agreeing responses from the others. The strenuous journey had obviously not helped the company's social skills.

"Yes, that might be a start on some manners here," Gimli spoke calmly, but it was obvious that he had reached the end of his patience, as his hands were on the smaller axes, Harry had seen him throw at an orc with astonishing accuracy once.

The tension between the two groups thickened, until Aragorn ordered them, "Stop this!" Surprisingly he started a discussion in the elves' language, which Legolas soon joined.

The company felt once more indignant at being left out of the argument.

"Frodo?" Legolas finally asked in the hobbit's direction, "They wish to talk to us. Come with me." When he ended a silvery rope-ladder was let down from above, near Frodo's perch and Aragorn helped the little hobbit onto the ladder while Legolas and the foreign elf made their way to that branch. It didn't take long before the three disappeared in the foliage above and Harry was left wondering, why instead of Aragorn, Frodo was handling the negotiations.

Trying to ease the tension of the two warriors guarding him a little and to satisfy his curiosity Harry meant, "You know Blonde had obviously no nursery at all," the two remained silent, but showed a little surprise, "so let's just get the introductions over with ourselves, alright?" He could practically feel his companions' eyes bore through him incredulously, as he was acting a lot more social than usual, but they weren't the ones whose life might depend on the impression he made on the elves. "Your names are Thalion," the one to his left gave a curt nod, while the one to his right reacted to "and then you must be Orophin." Harry gave a tight smile, that probably bordered on a grimace. "Wish I could say it is a pleasure but being a prisoner seldom is."

"Excuse me, Harry," came the amused voice of Aragorn, "It is quite unlikely that they understand the Common Tongue. Very few elves here do." _"Common Tongue..? Must be their word for English..."_

Feeling incredibly stupid, Harry regarded the two elves more closely and saw how they were exchanging confused looks obviously asking each other whether the other had understood, what Harry was trying to tell them.

Obviously deciding his idea might not have been so bad after all Aragorn started talking to the two. _"So that's why he was left here. With Aragorn here the two aren't left alone among people they don't understand."_

"Harry?" The immortal met the curious gaze of Meriadoc, "What have you done that the elves react in such a way to your appearance? They seem downright frightened!"

Looking at the two elves, who seemed to be ignoring Aragorn, so they would be able to keep their full attention on the vampire, he had to agree, but it wasn't too surprising considering that if Legolas was anything to go by elves were adept in feeling his dark nature and disliked it as a rule.

It was a long time before Legolas came back down hurriedly, as though to ensure that Blond (whom Harry just christened) up there had no time to change his mind. "The hobbits may climb up the ladder to this talan. The rest will have to climb down the tree and go in that direction." He made a motion to his right. "There will be a ladder leading to another one."

Although Legolas obviously hadn't really expected anyone to comment, Harry stopped him from picking up Pippin. "Why exactly should we entrust _them_ with the hobbits!" After his first meeting with the soldiers of Lothlórien Harry certainly wasn't about to leave them alone with the most defenceless of his companions.

Looking at him deeply insulted, Legolas all but spat out, "You may dig a hole, if you don't appreciate my brethrens' hospitality! But dig fast and deep, if you don't want the orcs to find you!"

Infuriated Harry snarled right back, "You know if I hadn't promised Aragorn to play nicely with _them_," the vampire made a harsh motion towards his elven guards, "I certainly would_ gladly _decline their 'elvish hospitality'!"

"Enough!" a harsh voice cut through there argument and the two adversaries stopped out of pure surprise, because they hadn't been interrupted by Aragorn, but the usually mild-tempered Meriadoc. In a slightly less sharp, but still very annoyed voice, he continued, "Legolas, you must realise that we have to distrust _everybody_, because of what Frodo carries." Harry filed this away for later wondering. "Especially when they demand to be accommodated with the most inexperienced fighters of the fellowship."

Seemingly seeing reason behind the words, Legolas kept his mouth shut, although it was obvious he was only grudgingly doing so.

"Sadly Harry, we have no other choice, as we need the help of the elves of Lothlórien, but be assured elves are the least likely to be a threat to us." He left the statement hanging, searching for eye-contact to remind Harry that he was far more dangerous than the elves.

Both sufficiently chastened men helped the three hobbits from their branches to the ladder, lending them a hand as they had to drag their luggage up.

When all hobbits had disappeared in the trees above and the ladder had been pulled back up, Legolas and Aragorn jumped down easily without even the slightest indication of discomfort at falling from such a height.

"_And how are _we_ going to get down?" _Harry never had a problem with heights, but playing Quidditch taught you from which height it was safe to jump and this was not one. It seemed he wasn't the only one, who wasn't too keen on following the two's example as a look at Boromir, whose ankle would certainly protest against that and Gimli, for whom the height must look even higher, showed.

At this moment Aragorn called something that sounded partly impatient, partly _mischievous_ up to the two elves, who were still standing on either side of Harry. Looking up at their faces the red-eyed man saw them exchange an uncertain look before one hopped over to Gimli. The elf exchanged a nod with Legolas who had meanwhile inconspicuously moved under the dwarf.

Harry was about to yell a warning, but it turned into one of alarm when he felt a hard shove in his back and fell forward, but only a moment later arms encircled him, stopping his descend and setting him on the ground, a little disoriented, but otherwise fine.

Another cry made him look up and he saw the elves had also _helped_ Boromir down. "Well, that's one way to get down from a tree..." he muttered to himself, but a smirk from Legolas signalled that he been heard. _"That guy can certainly hear well."_

They hastily made their way to the ladder they saw not too far away from them. Legolas made his way up first and it didn't take long for him to dissappear in the branches above, while Boromir climbed slowly, his injured foot obviously beginning to trouble him again. He was closely followed by Aragorn and probably so he could help his friend if his ankle refused to support him the whole way up. Harry decided not to follow immediately. The ladder did not look sturdy enough to support the people already on it and the vampire wasn't too keen on having the ladder ripping under their weight.

A shove to his shoulder made him turn around and glar up at the two impatient elves. One of the blond elves seemed to command Harry to do something, motioning towards the ladder. Crossing his arms over his chest Harry decided that he didn't really want to go up there at all, if it gave the elves the feeling that they could order him around. In that moment he heard very familiar sounds and he noticed that the wind carried a foul stench he knew all too well.

Narrowing his eyes Harry shoved the two towards the ladder and as they gave angry replies the vampire motioned the two harshly to be silent. Following this order out of what must have been instinct, the two suddenly seemed to hear the sounds too, as they hissed, "Yrch!"

Most likely to inform their leader, the two ran back to the other tree, although one threw the words "Up now!" over his shoulder.

Only losing a second to blink at the elves' retreating backs and listening to the in a disturbing way almost comfortingly familiar clinking of metal, lumbering footsteps and grunting way of speaking, Harry grabbed a hold of the ladder and pulled himself up awkwardly as he had never done something like this before.

The delicate-looking ropes were much sturdier than they looked as they hardly moved under his weight. Learning fast he had soon move up a good way, but when suddenly he felt the ladder jerk as it was pulled upward in a steady rhythm, he only clung to the ropes, as the hole in a wooden structure came closer. As he was directly under the hole two pairs of arms reached for him and pulled him through.

Harry watched as two grey-clothed elves drew in the ladder and aware of the noises below he understood why. He had obviously taken too long.

Looking around Harry saw that the talan was actually only a platform with a fluttering screen on one side. There wasn't even a balustrade to keep people from bringing a very abrupt end to their lives. Checking to make sure everyone had made it safely, Harry noticed that Boromir's foot was nursed by a brown-haired elf, who put something on it that obviously soothed the pain, while everyone ate something, that smelled quite pleasant. Naturally Harry had to decline when he was offered a bowl of it, too, though.

Looking over to the other talan to make sure the little ones were alright, the red-eyed man saw that Blonde's troops were kneeling on the platform's sides, observing the masses of orcs below, while the hobbits lay or sat in the middle, obviously not comfortable with the thought of tumbling off the edge.

Suddenly he noticed something surprising. He was sure that the elves, that had ambushed him the last time he was in this forest, consisted of look alikes of Blonde and were all male, but now most were about Boromir's size or shorter, had slightly wavy dark hair and their features were slightly less unearthly than those of Orophin, Thalion, Legolas and Blonde. _"The people in Blonde's old crew probably were in one way or another related to him. Looks like someone had to learn the hard way that blood does not mean anything."_

"Are you not hungry?" Harry whirled around startled, but discovered it was just Blonde who seemed to have noticed that his and the other elves' fear had been noticed and was trying to mask it better.

Trying to stare the other down to make up for the fact that he had to look way up to look the elf in his eyes, the vampire replied politely like he had, whenever the fellowship had asked him to eat with them, "No, thank you."

The elf's eyes grew even harder as he informed the dark creature very quietly, "I fear I cannot take no for an answer. The Lady has given me the order to make sure you are well fed, before you were allowed to approach the city. Come with me!"

Still stunned Harry simply watched as the elf dropped into a crouch and secured a ladder to the the edge of the platform and climbed down seemingly unconcerned, whether Harry would follow him.

Cautiously Harry looked back to the other people, but everybody had their attention on other things so he cautiously placed his foot on the first step of the silvery grey ladder, finding it somehow even more difficult than going up.

It also didn't help that branches and twigs were in his way quite often, but after a while he could see that there was a smaller platform below, that had been hidden by the thick shield of leaves. Blonde was waiting there, looking quite tense.

As Harry's feet touched the floor of the talan, he asked, "So why did you lead me here?" approaching him warily.

It was obvious that it took all of Blonde's self-restrained to keep from rolling his eyes, as he pointed out, "So we can talk undisturbed, you fool!"

"What did you mean, when you said, you were ordered to feed me?" Harry was fairly sure he understood it, but he wanted to make sure Haldir knew it, too.

"I'm convinced you know very well what it means. I was given the order to feed you and I intend carrying out those instructions, as the last time I did not the consequences were quite unpleasant." His face twisted in a fierce scowl as he tucked up his sleeve, but Harry didn't know whether it was directed at the memory, him or the thought of what would follow.

Imagining what was about to happen Harry couldn't help, but grimace as well. He had a fair idea how such a feeding was supposed to function, but had never actually done it. Also it was supposed to be quite painful for the donor.

His scowl almost turning into a grimace, the elf extended his arm towards Harry. "I was told what you need to drink in order to maintain your existence, " he informed, visibly restraining himself from hissing with disgust at the cursed creature.

Harry looked at the muscled arm in front of him, making no move to lean in and bite down. That would have been too similar to how he had fed the Thestrals – animals. He wouldn't abase himself that way. Instead he went to the edge of the platform and sat down with his legs dangling over the deep drop, motioning for the elf, who reacted to the strange behaviour merely with a raised eyebrow, to come over and sit down next to him.

The elf followed, as the vampire leaned forward to watch the orcs below.

Harry knew what the other must be thinking. _"Something along the lines of 'Just a little shove and he'll lose his balance, fall to his death and everybody's going to think it was an accident.'"_

Blonde surprised him slightly by not even attempting something like that and after realising that Harry would wait until he accepted his offer, he even sat down gracefully, almost regally. _"That guy has more pride and honour than I thought..."_

For a while longer Harry allowed silence to reign between them, as the orcs suddenly started to shriek, as a seemingly much stronger force attacked them. Since he would have loved to see what fought the orcs, although it was most likely only elves anyway, the vampire glared at the thick, golden foliage. He could imagine how the fight went though. For every elf there would fall ten or so orcs. It was quite amusing to the dark creature that, although the orcs looked so fearsome, in a fight one on one even the weakest human could easily win against them. Sadly the numbers couldn't possibly be even here, but since Blonde seemed undisturbed they seemed to at least be appropriately matching. Finally acknowledging the other's presence once more, Harry enquired rhetorically, "You didn't think I would just suck on the arm of a person, I don't even know the name of did you?"

An elegant, surprised eyebrow was raised, as the man responded, "I am Haldir of Lothlórien."

"I'm Harry," replied the red-eyed man, who couldn't help but smirk at Haldir, who true to his hair colour didn't understand what he was talking about. "That is not quite what I meant though. It's just very embarrassing and I don't feel like doing this with someone I only met an hour ago."

To Harry's great surprise the usually stoic creature's mouth suddenly started to twitch dangerously close to letting out the laughter he was trying to suppress, as his eyes looked at the vampire with deep amusement, as though he had made a tremendous joke. Seeing he had been caught the elf said in a voice that shook very slightly, "Forgive me, but we know each other longer than for _one_ day." Harry doubted that this little mistake would make the usually well-composed, proud elf laugh though. _"What is so funny?"_ Quite obviously trying to change the subject, the elf queried indirectly, "So I understand you want to talk."

Shrugging slightly the vampire nodded. "If you think your guys up there are going to be OK for a moment."

"I trust my brother to keep everything under control," was the frosty reply.

That rang a bell in Harry's mind, because he had found it so unbelievable when Gandalf said it. A little unsure whether he got it right, he asked, "Wasn't your brother the one, who almost severed our heads?"

"Yes, but I'm not talking about Rúmil," Haldir sneered, "I left my other brother in charge, Orophin." It seemed though that the elf was still very sour when it came to this 'Rúmil', because he hissed, "Due to Rúmil's unsatisfactory display during a moment of stress" he gave Harry a pointed look, "it was decided he needed more training." Back to his usual composure he added, "Along with a few others among my old soldiers. Some resigned from their duties voluntarily and will never return to them as the incident showed them how corrupted Middle Earth has become and thus they journeyed west. I was forced to take soldiers of lower birth and even _maidens_ to fill the posts with soldiers of greater skill." After a lot of pondering the elf continued, "I must say I am quite grateful. I never thought there were such talented swords- and bowmen among the Silvan, especially the females. I admit to have underestimated them."

It was strange how the elf was beginning to visibly grow used to the fright the vampire permeated like an aura. Feeling his courage building up, Harry decided to propose, "Do you have a knife and bowl or something like that?"

Proving that he was quick on the uptake after all, the relieved elf produced a sharp, short dagger and a flask from his belt. After emptying the last of the flask's contents, the elf cut a small, but immediately heavily bleeding nick into his arm, collecting the liquid carefully in his flask.

Meanwhile the vampire concentrated on the slowly distancing sounds of battle to keep the urge at bay to attack the bleeding creature next to him. Before he knew it though, the flask entered his vision once more and Harry looked up in surprise at the pale- and slightly unwell-looking elf, as he wrapped a bandage tightly around his arm.

As the man told him, "Let's climb back up, our companions will become restless if we don't return soon."

Harry couldn't help but see with some relief that the elf's eyes when he surveyed the vampire didn't shine with disgust any more. _"Maybe they aren't that bad... _Very_ deep down."_

_**AN.: I'm sorry to all people with blond hair! I have nothing against your hair! I just thought Harry would be someone to stereotype blondes if he didn't like them, because of Malfoy! SORRY!**_


	8. Light

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**For those who wondered and are still wondering why **_Legolas is often discribed as a brunette_: In the books his hair colour was mentioned only once and described as 'dark', so I was one of the people who imagined him as an elf with dark brown almost black hair. Also after much thinking after watching the movies, I thought it was more probable, considering Legolas' mother was most likely a Silvan elf and the dark hair colour that those elves usually have would have dominated over Thranduil's blond-genes. I hope nobody minds it too much. I just want to distance myself a little from what I saw in the movies, because I think what I imagined would be far more fun to write.

**Warning for this chapter: **Erm... Hmmm... How about... blood? Still very little though. Harry: "And I am thirsty!" -.-U Stop whining you big baby.

**Thanks to all those who reviewed! If you want to be answered, log in or leave an e-mail address please.**

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 8 – Light**

As the elves escorted them back down, they immediately noticed the tracks on the soft forest floor. Something had trampled all vegetation and left marks on the trees that looked like swords got stuck there in the bark and had been pulled out again with enormous strength. Yet there was no weapon or body anywhere. Sniffing slightly Harry realised that there wasn't even the sharp smell of blood; instead the air was fresh and wet from the early hour. _"It's like there has been no fight at all!" _Only the footprints and damage of the trees - which the elves caressed mournfully as they passed - were evidence that he had not just imagined the bloodcurdling screams and shrieks last night.

By the time they left the path and arrived at a river Haldir called 'Celebrant',Harry worried about other things. It was fast-flowing and looked like it could easily sweep away a skilled swimmer.

The faint trill of a bird made him look to his side only to realize Haldir was somehow emitting the deceivingly authentic-sounding call. Following the elf's intent look Harry could just make out a grey-cloaked elf who emerged from the trees on the other side. The elves were all quite hard to make out if they didn't move, because they were wearing cloaks of the same colour as their silvery, grey trees. With astounding strength and skill Haldir threw a thick roll of rope across, which the golden-haired elf on the other side caught easily. The others watched curiously as both secured their end around a tree on their side of the river straining the rope, so it didn't sag any more.

Harry only graced the impossible-to-follow command of Haldir to follow him, as he ran across what he obviously considered a bridge, with a raised eyebrow. Legolas pointed out what everybody else was thinking, "I can walk on it, but what about the others? They aren't this nimble. Are they supposed to swim?"

Harry rolled his eyes, as he saw that Haldir quickly thought and responded, "No. We have two other ropes, which we are going to fasten over the first atshoulder and waist-height. If the strangers hold onto those tightly, they should be able to make it across safely." It was obvious to Harry that the blond elf had actually forgotten that not everyone had the equilibrium sense all elves seemed to be blessed with. The vampire could hardly blame him though. If the elves' behaviour, lack of common language and curious looks were anything to go by, they hardly ever had visitors from other races. It seemed there was at least one thing that was exactly like it used to be in his world: The different races tried to mostly keep to themselves. _"Another reason to finally ask why the guys are from so many different species."_

As the makeshift bridge was finished, nobody really wanted to go at first. The ropes looked dangerously thin, hanging over the loud, angrily gurgling river. The vampire was quite sure he wasn't the only one eyeing it as though it was not filled with water, but an abyss just waiting for you to fall to your doom. It was quite the sore reminder of what happened only one day ago.

When Haldir finally reached the end of his patience, he grabbed the person nearest to him by the arm, dragging his unfortunate victim towards the water's edge. The bad thing was Harry had been the person nearest to the elf and although he really didn't want to set foot on those ropes, he didn't resist as he was pulled there. He didn't want the others to know that the thought of climbing across frightened him.

Although the vampire was too proud to admit it to himself, he was glad that the elf went ahead, keeping a firm hold of his arm, as they reached the edge of the water. Clinging to the rope that hung, due to his small height, fifteen centimetres over his head as though it was a lifeline, he set his foot unsteadily on the dew at his feet. Trying not to look down where the water waited to swallow him, Harry kept his eyes locked on Haldir's back, mimicking his movements as he pushed his foot forward very slowly.

Hearing cursing from behind Harry knew Legolas had finally followed Haldir's example and helped the others across forcefully.

When the vampire finally set foot on safe ground again, he yanked his arm free of the amused blond's hold and went a couple of steps away to make space for Merry, who was close behind them and obviously annoyed with their slow pace, and to sulk discretely. He didn't like being pulled around.

Taking out the flask with Haldir's blood, he pulled the stopper out and took a few measured sips. He was afraid he would do something to the elf if he ran out of his blood. After so many years of rancid, black orc-blood, the red liquid tasted nothing short of delicious. He had to use all his will power to keep himself from wondering (and finding out) whether elven blood always tasted like this or whether it truly was just the fact that he hadn't had any proper 'food' for such a long time.

He felt a little uncomfortable as the elves on this side of the river and the one who remained on the other side, so she could keep watch, took down the bridge and the only escape route Harry knew of.

"Well friends," Harry turned to Haldir and saw that he and his kinsman were eying him nervously and hardly bothered to mask it, "we have now reached the Naith of Lórien or the Gore, as you would say, since this is the wedge-shaped land, that lies between the Celebrant and Anduin the Great. We cannot let strangers explore the Naith. Few have been allowed to set foot on this ground at all. So as we agreed, I will blindfold Gimli the dwarf and Harry, while the others may continue like this a little while longer, until we reach our dwellings down in the Egladil."

The mentioned dwarf's and vampire's eyes widened in surprise and then disbelief before they turned to their companions, who had obviously made these arrangements without even considering their opinion or even deeming it necessary to inform them. Faced with the betrayal in the two's eyes Legolas and Frodo looked everywhere but at them.

"_I_ have _never_ agreed to this!" he snarled at the blond, who looked close to sighing and seemed to try to find something to say, while looking at his companions for help, but he got the opposite from Gimli, who spoke with outrage clear in his voice, "I will not go blindfolded like a beggar or captive! I am not a spy! My race has never had dealings with the enemy. Neither have we ever caused your people harm. The chance that I betray you is not bigger than that Legolas or one of my other companions will."

At this the highly exasperated elven commander did sigh. "I do not doubt your intentions, but this is our law. I have neither made it nor can I change it. Usually I would not even have been allowed to let you pass over the Celebrant."

Gimli didn't sympathise with the elf squaring his back and going into a more offensive stance with his hand on his axe.

It was in this moment that Harry decided to actually show that he was older and more mature than people gave him credit for, as he took pity on the soldier, who only followed his instructions and would be in great trouble if he acted on his own authority. He approached a wary Haldir, who probably remembered very well, what happened the last time he tried to blindfold the vampire and turned around when he was in front of him. When nothing happened he looked over his shoulder at the elf, who had merely raised an eyebrow uncomprehendingly. "Well, do it already before I change my mind!" Receiving a gratefully smile, Harry's eyes were covered with a soft black cloth and he felt the elf make a tight knot at the back of his head to keep it in place. Although he didn't see them, he could feel the stunned stares of the others.

"Alright…" he heard Gimli mutter defeatedly and then the rustle of a cloth.

Aragorn wouldn't let their group be driven apart like that though. "I am still the leader of this group and I can understand that Gimli and Harry feel insulted, that they are treated differently than the rest of us. We will all be blindfolded, even Legolas. That will be for the best, although it will make the journey slow and boring."

Gimli's guffawing laughter was heard. "A funny band of fools we will be! But if Legolas shared my blindness, I would be content anyway!"

The sharp-tongued elf was now quite indignant, too, "I'm an elf and kindred with this folk!"

"Stubborn elf! The whole company will share your fate. Come Haldir, cover our eyes!" Aragorn ordered.

The vampire felt ridiculous as they walked in single file through the woods and he could swear he could feel the mirthful eyes of some elves on him, but the ground was even and if it was possible softer than in the rest of the woods, so he soon walked less cautiously, learning to trust the elves to tell him if he was about to walk into a tree or stumble over a some small obstacle.

It turned out to have its advantages that they all had to pass their time talking and getting to know each other and their guides better, because there was nothing better to do. The vampire rather listened to them though.

When Harry felt the prickling of himself changing and they were told to just sleep on the ground, the others weren't too pleased though. He pitied them already for the sore backs they would undoubtedly have in the morning.

The vampire had been listening to their even breathing for a while when he heard the soft sound of someone sitting down next to him gracefully. "Haldir?" he asked questioningly, not feeling comfortable about not knowing whether it was someone else, because he didn't really know the other elves and whether they were above taking advantage of his current inability to see.

To his relief a soft voice with a strong lilting accent spoke up, "What is it you want Harry?"

The vampire held back a snort. "You were the one who came here, so I figured you wanted something!"

Harry was sure he could hear the twitch of the elf's lips, when the other said, "Is it that uncommon among your people to just seek silent company?"

Sneering in the direction of the elf's voice, the vampire said, "Well, at the moment your silent company means very little to me, as I can hardly tell you are there at all, so let's rather not keep it silent, I'm bored."

"Very well." This time the twitch must have been stronger, because there was pause between the words.

Harry waited for a moment for the other to start talking, but he wasn't forthcoming. "Why do I always have to find something to talk about?"

"Because you are the one, who always wants to talk about something. Besides two times can hardly be called 'always'" The twitch had turned to dry, sophisticated chuckles expertly mingled with the words.

If Harry hadn't been blindfolded, he would have glared at the other male, but as it was it would probably only fuel his amusement. The vampire was beginning to think Haldir had been easier to get along with when he hated Harry, but then he remembered what the other had been like and came to the conclusion that he wasn't a person to easily like. Fishing for a topic, because he really did think the silence between them was quite uncomfortable, he muttered, "You elves are quite alright."

There was a surprised almost disbelieving laugh from his companion, until he seemed to be able to bite it back, as a few annoyed, unintelligible words were heard from the group. He inquired softly, in mock-surprise, "Really?"

"Yeah, apart from Legolas," he clarified deadpan, which resulted in another chuckle the other couldn't suppress. He had received a lot of scathing comments from the annoyed brunette yesterday, which although he had returned them cheerfully, had irritated him a lot and he was quite sick of it. "What is wrong with him anyway? I don't claim that the other elves like me lots, but after getting used to my presence, they at least stopped being openly hostile."

The elf immediately sobered. "You do understand that you are," he seemed to search for the right words, "touched by evil?"

Harry's mouth thinned, as he bit down the remark that this was no reason to treat him differently considering he had hardly had a choice but to be, as Haldir put it, 'touched'.

"Elves fear evil more than most other races," the elf said his voice sounding like was trying not to make this sound insulting to him.

"Why?" Harry had the serious urge to rip off the cloth, for the sole reason that he wanted to look at the elf strangely.

"When elves have to ward off evil, it is one of the few occasions that our people die."

Harry blinked at him from under the cloth, but the elf went right on, not leaving the immortal enough time to truly understand what that statement implied, as he lead the vampire's thoughts elsewhere.

"The elves here had to fight the shadow of Moria and keep the orcs at bay for centuries, but Legolas has grown up in a forest that is haunted by many wretched things and I can only assume that he has learned to fight it alongside with learning to walk and talk. The elves of Mirkwood touch the string of their bow instead of their harp, Harry and that changes you. His fear of the dark is deeper ingrained into him than us, who have lived here, where we could at least always say that we are safe once we reach the Naith. In their wood the constant war often carries the battles into their home. These elves simply have more reason to be wary of you than we do, although," his voice got an edge to it that told Harry he was smirking at him, "_they_ never had to meet the 'Dark Wizard' at his worst."

That hadn't really been the most encouraging thing to hear, because Haldir had basically told him that people here considered him evil and treated him as such, until they decided to reconsider. _"What a legal conception..."_

Seeing that he had given Harry quite the sour mood, the elf mentioned, "You probably noticed he does not treat Gimli with too much love either though." Harry hadn't really noticed so far, because he had paid no attention to it, but now that he thought about it, that was an understatement. The elf had as many if not more little fights with the dwarf than with him. Why Haldir thought the remark that he wasn't the only one the brunette couldn't stand would cheer him up was beyond the vampire though. Legolas was really beginning to remind him of Draco Malfoy. _"I can only hope his dad isn't working for an insane Dark Lord."_ Thinking about his long dead rival was bittersweet. They had been on the same side of the war in the end, but had usually used this to stay close to each others' throats. Still when the blond had died Harry had lost _something_. Maybe the saying that everybody needs their enemy was true. "When are we going to reach your city?" he asked for the sole reason that he wanted to change the subject.

"With the pace we were walking today?" Harry imagined him to grimace as he heard the chagrined tone. "Another day. That is what I wanted to talk with you about actually."

Harry could hardly keep from either groaning or hitting the elf, for keeping up with the chitchat, although the vampire had told him to get to the point - the elf claimed he didn't have - from the beginning. The vampire admitted to himself that he should have known though. _"Who fancies talking the night away, but a vampire?"_

Despite the fact that Harry was sure that the blond had noticed his exasperation, his voice became hard, telling the vampire this was business, "I want to go ahead with you."

"Why?" asked a perplexed and suddenly quite suspicious vampire.

"Thalion went to scout our path and met the elven-legion that fought the enemy last night. If we don't walk in a great loop around them we are going to meet them," the elf answered.

"What would be so bad about meeting that army?" the vampire questioned.

"Some of the elves that used to be among my troop and were degraded are in that army."

Realisation came and Harry swallowed thickly. "And they would be none too pleased to see me would they?"

"I doubt it," Haldir agreed, but after a moment's hesitation he admitted, "I have to admit though that it has to do with my unwillingness to encounter Rumil, too."

For a short moment Harry allowed himself to feel a little bit of guilt, because technically it was his fault that the brothers were at odds with each other. He was too proud to apologise though.

"Also I think it is better if you didn't meet the Lady and Lord with the others."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but he was not sure whether he had been able to raise it high enough to be seen over the cloth.

Haldir understood the silent question anyway. "They don't know everything yet, do they?" Harry shook his head. "I thought it would make things easier."

"Well, let's go! Lead the way!" Standing up, Harry groped for Haldir's hand. He knew better than to ask him to _finally _allow him take the blindfold off.

"Don't you wish to tell your friends that you are leaving?" the elf asked and Harry could just see him raising a stern eyebrow with his arms crossed over his chest.

Harry mimicked the stance he imagined the blond to have. "If you handle the explanations? I, for my part wouldrather go now then later. You said we are going to meet them tomorrow again anyway."

The elf remained hard. "You should at least tell them that I did not abduct you."

"Oh, all right!" he hissed. Walking to where he could hear one of his more 'soundly' sleeping companions, he crouched down and after searching for the others arm, shook him a little. With a smirk he muttered to the moaning individual that sounded like Boromir, "Hey, your snail pace is driving us crazy, Haldir and I are going ahead, all right?"

To his surprise a clear voice answered from the other side of the camp, "Just be careful, Harry." In an almost threatening way the voice, which Harry realised belonged to Aragorn, added, "I advice you not to abuse our faith in you Haldir."

With that a hand grabbed his and he was dragged away at a fast pace. When they were a good distance away the two started running.

After a while Harry could feel the warmth of the sun prickled on his skin and he was starting to slow down drastically, but Haldir simply half-carried the smaller male onwards at the same pace.

It wasn't long before the elf announced, "We are there. Welcome to Caras Galadon!"

"Great..." Harry muttered sarcastically, still unable to see any of his surroundings.

Unperturbed by his companion's lack of enthusiasm the marchwarden continued. "This is the city of the Galadrim, where Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien dwell. I wish I could allow you to see." His voice was filled with pride and honest regret.

There was the hollow sound of him knocking on metal and then the barest sound of something moving aside, that made Harry assume they had just passed the city's walls. As they moved forward again, he was suddenly less sour about not being allowed to see, because what he heard was more than enough to mesmerise him. There were songs in the air. Many different ones, yet they mingled together to one wonderful great choir; even the voices of those elves who were only _talking_ with each other wove their way into this symphony harmoniously.

Suddenly Haldir's voice broke his trancelike state, "In front of us is a great tree. It is where Celeborn and Galadriel live. Are you ready to meet them?"

The honest answer would have been 'no'. Not only was he dirty and really didn't feel like meeting anybody of importance like this, but he also still couldn't see and he therefore had very little desire to climb up to the two rulers' talan. But it seemed Haldir's question had been rhetorical as a moment later a horn was blown, although he had not answered, yet. It was followed by three answering calls from farther up.

Haldir let him climb ahead of him on the wooden ladder, following very closely with the clear intention that he wanted to be able to catch Harry in case he lost his footing. They made their way up slowly and it seemed to take years before Harry finally felt he had reached the end of the ladder.

A helping hand guided him off the ladder and he began to feel really stupid, having to be lead around as though he was blind. Someone seemed to have read his thoughts, as a sweet, musical voice laughed, "Take his blindfold off, Haldir!"

He felt the aforementioned struggle with the knot for a moment and when the cloth fell away, he realised he wasn't in the same kind of talan he knew already. A soft light illuminated the room and the walls were green and silver with a golden roof. Many elves sat around the room, looking at him with guarded expressions, but he only had eyes for the pair, that sat in front of the tree's massive trunk in the shade of a golden-leaved branch.

One was a male with flowing silver hair and a stern face and the other a silvery golden-haired female, who wore a kind smile on her lips, but she held herself like a warrior; both so beautiful and powerful that Harry simply couldn't help but pay the appropriate respect, as his knees gave way and he bowed his head slightly out of pure shock at seeing two angels, coming to judge him.

After a moment of hesitation the female stood up and walked up to him.


	9. Judgment

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**Warning for this chapter:** None

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 9 – Judgment**

Eyes as blue as the sky, twinkled merrily, as the beautiful female greeted him with a clear, but surprisingly deep voice, "Welcome young wizard Harry."

Harry didn't bother protesting against the 'young', since looking into those fathomless blue orbs, vampire felt like a small child again the, instead he tried to think of an appropriate way to return the greeting.

Before he could decide, she continued though: "Please, do rise child. Such ways of treating people aren't common among elves."

Embarrassed and blushing furiously, because he had not really noticed he was kneeling until now, Harry scrambled up hastily. _"Well, she at least accepted that as a formal greeting, I guess."_

"Do take a seat. We have much to discuss." She motioned towards one of the chairs in front of the Lord of Lorién, who looked at his wife everything but approvingly.

Taking a seat Harry glanced over his shoulder inconspicuously. Haldir, who had obviously been about to leave, received a sharp, somewhat commanding look. Under Celeborn's stare the vampire felt small and vulnerable, like a small child that had done something horribly wrong. Although he didn't like to admit it to himself, he wished his elven acquaintance would stay with him for moral support. _"After all he _is_ bound by his honour to make sure I'm alright," _the proud being tried to reason with himself.As though he heard his thoughts, the blonde came forward and took the chair to the vampire's right.

"You have set many things into motion in the short time you have been here," Celeborn said coldly, speaking for the first time. His voice was rich and musical, yet his accent was not as strong as Haldir's. "Few of them are positive."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but it was the elf's wife that countered mildly, "Not even the wise can tell whether an action leads to good or bad in the labyrinth of time."

The elven Lord's eyes were shining with chagrin, but his expression was still blank.

Looking at the short immortal with those sad, wise eyes, Galadriel asked, "Would you mind telling us your story?"

Having heard similar words before, the vampire tensed, instantly on his guard. But he had made up his mind long ago what he would do once this question arose. He would tell the truth, just not everything. "Well, it isn't all that long, really. I was sent here by a friend, who wanted me to be with other... people like me. I met Saruman and stayed with him for a while, working for him, but when he asked me to create more vampires, I fled."

Celeborn cut into his speech, "What exactly are vampires?" Harry's eyes widened, realizing he had said too much. _"There probably wouldn't have been a way around this one anyway though. They know about my eating habits already after all."_ "Saruman's messengers informed us about your need of blood to preserve your youth and that if you were not given any willingly you would take it by a force to be reckoned with. They were unwilling to share much more."

Thinking quickly, the dark creature answered shrugging slightly, "Well, there is hardly any more to it. Although the 'preserve my youth' part isn't really completely right and the _taking by force-_part isn't really my choice."

It looked like Celeborn wanted to question him on this side-stepping statement further, but Galadriel commented instead: "Not many would have been able to resist Saruman's voice. It is his strongest weapon and you can be proud for accomplishing this feat."

The vampire blushed slightly at the praise.

"He has served him for months before he did so," the Lord retorted.

"As have many others." Once more the silver-haired female beat Harry to his response. "Few have not been fooled by him and we are all responsible for letting his long foreseeable treachery be of such dire consequences in this war. Much could have been prevented, if we had dared to question his intentions."

Beginning to feel slightly unnecessary Harry just watched the two rulers, beginning to wonder whether the two have fought this argument before and how many times. It was a strange thought, as those two just seemed to be above such a human thing as _arguing_.

When the two were finished with their small battle of words and will, Celeborn turned back to Harry, "We are already aware of how your journey must have continued, but where does it begin? Where have you come from? Nobody in these lands seems to have ever heard of 'vampires' before, yet with the way you talk about them it is clear that there are more of you."

"_Not any more. I made sure of that."_ Harry decided against informing them of this and instead come up with a suitable answer. He opted to just word it differently. "There used to be, but there haven't been any vampires but me for a very long time."

Surprisingly it was Galadriel, who decided to bring an end to Harry's games. "But where have you come from? You seem to know little about elves, so I can only assume it is the east." Here her eyes pleaded with him to prove her wrong and have a different solution to this riddle.

Not wanting to feel her gaze explore his very soul any more, he closed his eyes. _"Should I trust them? The last time it had been the wrong decision, but this time I really think withholding the truth could only lead to unpleasant things... Didn't Meriadoc say something about elves being the most trustworthy creatures around here? On the other hand everybody seems to have believed Saruman to be a good guy until shortly ago... Furthermore the elves seem to act very different when it concerns me."_

To Harry's great surprise Haldir decided to speak up for him, although it was definitely against conduct for him to do so. "I don't believe so, my Lady."

The dark being didn't need to see the two look sharply at their march warden in surprise to realise the march warden had talked out of turn.

"Forgive me for interrupting, when it certainly isn't my place to, but I do not believe he is a spy. What use would he be to the enemy? He is far too conspicuous to fool anybody."

"So you believe in his innocence, because he _obviously_ has dealings with Mordor?" Celeborn demanded all but incredulously.

Harry huffed. "I don't even know who Mordor is!" Harry regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. The moment they had been said he knew they were the most stupid thing he could have said, although they had seemed innocent enough to him.

Now the elven rulers had an emotion on their faces for which they were definitely much too old: shock.

"You have never heard of _Mordor_ before?" Haldir uttered, sounding completely disbelieving and not at all like his usual self. If his wide disbelieving eyes were any indication though, he was too shocked to care about his image at the moment.

"No," Harry admitted, schooling his face into an expressionless mask and trying not to acknowledge that he had definitely talked himself into a dead end. "I have lead a pretty sheltered life." _"Still not a complete lie and probably believable enough."_

Celeborn raised an eyebrow in contemplation, giving Haldir a look as though he reconsidered his words. "Even the least sly of Sauron's orcs would know better than to claim not knowing of _him_!"

A slight intake of breath made everybody look at the Lady of Lórien in surprise. "What I have seen in the Mirror is true after all. Not a vision of a possible, if unlikely and far away future at all- the present!" All men looked at her in astonishment for she looked as though she had seen a ghost and her words were all but incoherent muttering to them.

The Lady was very quiet for a few minutes and seemed deep in thought, but none of the man made a move to carry on the conversation before she was ready; instead they sat in uncomfortable silence wondering what the words she had just uttered had been about.

Finally her eyes snapped back into focus and regarded Harry with the victorious air of someone, who had solved a _very_ hard and big puzzle they have been playing for a very long time and never quite managed to piece together completely.

Sending him an evaluating look, she explained, "Twenty years ago I was witness to an old woman using powerful magic which spirited the boy in her company away. When Saruman's ambassadors informed me, what the creature he had found looked like, it caught my interest and I gathered all information I could about him. I desired to find the answers I sought with the boy-faced immortal. And indeed I did..."

Harry winced. _"This is the sole reason I spent 20 years in hiding?! Because she wanted some answers I might not even have?"_

"The old maiar was this 'friend' you mentioned, who sent you away, as you put it. Am I correct?" the lady asked, sounding like she was pretty sure she was.

Harry nodded reluctantly, knowing there was no way he could keep the full story from her now, but not willing to help her piece it together any more than he absolutely had to.

"She used a spell to send you to Saruman. But why didn't she let you travel? You have all eternity, so why did she use magic for something as simple as a journey? How great must this distance have been to justify using magic so powerful I have seldom seen the likes of it before?"

While she thought aloud, the female elf suddenly seemed far younger than before. She had probably not encountered anything that she couldn't figure out in a long time.

Her penetrating gaze held his and seemed to finally find the answer deep within him, as her eyes widened in realisation.

"You couldn't have travelled this distance, could you? The place I saw in the vision intrigued me so, because I saw so many things I have never seen before. The reason they are new to me are that they have never existed here and they were never supposed to."

A silence followed as the curious, _young_ elf in front of him was once more replaced by the calm, collected Lady of the Wood. She must have gained all of the knowledge she sought.

"You _have_ set things into motion, Harry. I cannot see the final outcome of all things any more, because through your actions they are ever-changing. Your decisions can change the flow of time forever - _have_ already changed it forever."

Celeborn cut in angrily, "That is the reason why you need to be judged by the Valar! You are no better than _'he'_, changing arda to your liking. If your ultimate origin indeed does not lie in Ilúvatar, you had no right to set foot on Middle Earth to begin with."

Suddenly Galadriel soft eyes met his and they were so sad and sorrowful, knowing they would part soon that they reminded him of a whole different pair of eyes. It might have been coincidence, but he suddenly remembered something, he had forgotten very long ago, "What about my bag?!"

Celeborn's eyebrows rose slightly. "Where you are going, you will have no need for it."

"Maybe but it doesn't belong here either and the things in there may have more influence on the future than I could, if somebody else found it. After all nothing in it has its," he mimicked Celeborn's voice, "_origin in Ilúvatar_." Harry actually had no idea _what _was inside the bag. He guessed though that his invisibility cloak and some other magical items which _could_ seriously mess this world up would be among them.

A warm smile that failed to hide its mischievous and all but wicked nature spread across the Lady's face. "You need to find it," she agreed readily.

"We cannot let him go," Celeborn said startled that his wife was not on his side. He made sure to give Harry a look that stated that he wasn't dumb and knew the vampire would never return if they let him go.

"We could send Haldir with him. He would also have a better chance of finding what he seeks with someone familiar with these lands to guide him," she declared not even asking the person, who was sitting in front of her about his opinion.

Risking a slightly amused look to his side, Harry made a note to never forget Haldir's face. His eyes were round and his lips were slightly apart, forming silent words, which he didn't dare voice. He obviously didn't like the thought of going with a vampire on a fruitless search for luggage that had been lost two decades ago.

A highly exasperated Celeborn inquired reasonably, "Why not send an elf to find this bag_ for_ him?"

"Because they wouldn't be able to find it?" Harry put in dead-pan. "I don't really know where I lost it myself and I doubt I'd be able to give you any useful directions."

It was not five minutes later that he and Haldir had been dismissed. The vampire would never forget Lord Celeborn's pinched face, as he announced _'his' _decision. Haldir and Harry would go in search for the bag and after it was found, the elf was to guide him to the Grey Havens immediately. Harry didn't know who the elf-lord was trying to fool by acting like he was the ruler of Lórien. Even the vampire, who had arrived there not an hour ago was quite aware that the power over this city did not lie in the Lord's hands. It was most certainly held by Galadriel, who had obviously decided what actions to take long ago.

The dark creature smirked to himself as he took hold of the ladder that would lead them to the lower levels of the city. He recognised a person that wanted, no _needed _ change desperately and this ancient elf-woman was one of them. Only the question whether the elf wanted things to change, because she had seen a horrible future, because she didn't like the present or because the woman was just bored, since she had seen _literally_ everything now, remained.

After a while of pondering this, he gave up, figuring it was probably a little bit of everything and instead halted in his descend to admire the sheer beauty of Caras Galadon. The surreal elegancy of this shadowed, serene city with its little flickering lanterns that looked like stars from up here, where he could overlook everything, was breathtaking.

All buildings seemed to have grown naturally from the trees. The branches curled around and blended into them, covering most of the walls, while the roofs usually consisted solely of the branches' golden leaves.

But despite the beauty of it all Harry couldn't help but think something was off. It wasn't right, but try as he might, he couldn't figure out what was wrong with the place apart from perhaps being too pretty and pure to be in the same world as Moria and orcs – and _him_.

Following Haldir down the rest of the ladder and up another big tree, Harry shot the elves looks that were just as avid and suspicious as their eyes, which followed his every move.

At last they stopped in front of a particularly beautiful talan that was decorated with many intricate carvings. On closer inspection he found that someone seemed to still be working on them, as some of the fantastic beasts and elves were unfinished. It did nothing to decrease the talan's beauty at all though. It gave the building an aspect of time, which the others lacked and suddenly Harry knew what had bothered him up until now about this city. _"And what probably bothers Galadriel."_

It was filled with endless songs and pure beauty, but it was _'finished'_. It was perfect the way it was and couldn't be made any better if you changed it at all. The vampire felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew that it would take years, but he _would _grow wary of this place. It was just such a monotonous beauty, that it would become a little more ugly with every day.

Fondly he remembered his old home, Hogwarts. Beautiful in a way this place would never achieve to be; by having more crooked towers than you could count and windows of all shapes and sizes; by being loving to its students and wicked and mischievous and angry at times; by being full of noisy students running to and fro; by always surprising you by having a tower one day and letting it disappear the next.

Closing his eyes in sympathy he realised that the beings living here, had probably forgotten to appreciate things that aren't yet complete and he was immensely grateful that he had been born a human, because they knew that you could make a change and by doing so still improve the world.

Entering the tree house behind the obviously disgruntled elf, Harry couldn't get the thought of the unseizable age of the Lord and Lady and - what probably bothered him most - the lack of children get out of his mind. He was close to figuring something big out.

Watching the elf as he prepared a makeshift bed of thick, soft blankets, Harry resisted the urge to point out that he wouldn't need it, knowing the elf was probably only doing it out of curtsey and to have something to do. The vampire suppressed the surge of sympathy he felt for his companion, already having figured out how much his home meant to the elf and understanding his reluctance to leave it. _"But I cannot think about that now!"_

He silently listed the facts, that so easily added up to something he didn't dare add together. _"Elves are faster, stronger and most seem to think they are wiser than mor-_humans_. Haldir hasn't aged in the past twenty years._ _There are no children, but there is chance that theír parents are just hiding them from me. They all have more or less ageless faces and their rulers are most definitely _old_. But they are beings of _light_! Not darkness! On the contrary, they seem to abhor it. They don't turn either! Still I _have_ encountered vampires that hid their change under a glamour... Could it be? No..." _

As the wizard finally found the courage to talk to the moody elf, he asked warily, although it sounded quite rude even to his own ears, "How can those two be so very old?! How have they achieved immortality?" Looking at Haldir's stunned, youthful face disbelievingly, Harry voiced something he had figured out deep down a long time ago. "You _all_ are..."

The blond looked at him for several moments unsure, as though the other had asked whether the sky was blue. "Yes, of course." His tone changed to that of a person quoting something they had been told time and time again, "the firstborn are blessed with immortality, while the second born may part with the world wholly when they feel wary..." He trailed off, thinking he had said something wrong, as his companion's expression shut off and he spaced out.

Harry didn't know why he was so shocked by these news and why it had taken him such a long time to figure it out. Now that he knew, it was quite obvious really, but it was clear to the vampire that sadness and disappointment had kept him from facing the truth: These people were what he was here for to find.

They were not what he _wanted_ to find though.

It was hard to accept, but he would never fit in with those people, as they seemed to forget so many important things over the years and were just too _unlike_ him.

Groaning Harry laid his head in his hands, knowing he couldn't get what he truly desired. Beings like him were simply not meant to exist forever and yet he would.

Hearing his name he finally acknowledged his elven friend, who was shaking his shoulder gently but persistently. Shrugging off the other's hand, he mumbled, "I'm alright." Haldir arched a doubtful eyebrow, but Harry simply pointed to the bed on the other side of the room. "You haven't slept last night and tomorrow morning we are going to set out. That means bedtime for you." He narrowed his eyes sternly and rested his hands on his hips to complete the picture of a strict mother, eliciting a laugh from the other and hopefully taking the elf's thoughts to other things.

Haldir's lips twitched, as he shook his head saying, "I needn't rest, yet. Being home alone refreshes me more than any rest I had in the wild in the past weeks has been able to." Seeing the vampire about to protest he compromised, "But I swear I will retire early this night." Shaking his head amusedly, the blond went over to a cabinet that was covered with carvings like those on the outside but with less skill.

As the other sifted through his things searching, Harry merely watched curiously, wondering what the elf was looking for.

He was about to offer his help, when the other pulled out some worn-looking pieces of clothing, smiling victoriously.

Noticing the attentive gaze on him, the elf said, "I thought you could use a good bath and a fresh set of clothes. I'm not sure whether they will fit perfectly and they are quite old, but they are certainly better than the rags you are wearing now." The last was said with a slight wrinkle of the aristocratic nose.

Not needing to be told twice Harry stood up quickly at the prospect of 'new' clothes and maybe even the opportunity to use some soap. Trotting after his guide happily, he simply ignored all those distrustful elves they met on their way.

While the two unlikely friends made their way down the ladder yet again and then a very far distance to another part of the city, Harry began to realise why all elves seemed to be in such a good shape.

The bathhouse - or whatever the elven equivalent was correctly called - was a big rectangular building, that looked more practical than beautiful, but still quite impressive to behold, as it spoke of more civilisation than he had found up until now in Middle Earth. It was also one of the only buildings in this place that was situated on the ground. Pleasant smells, promising the two approaching travellers relaxing hot, perfumed baths, wafted around it in a wide perimeter.

Entering, Haldir spoke to an elf that seemed to be in charge and Harry looked around in interest. The different baths were separated by screens and there seemed to be more than one person in most, as conversations drifted out of nearly all of them. The old being had of course heard that bathing used to be a social occurrence in old cultures, but despite the fact that he had to use the shared showers in school, he did _not_ look forward to sharing a _bath_!

Still the promise of feeling clean again lured him after the elf, down a corridor. To his great relief the Haldir only opened the flap of a screen for him and ushered him into the closed off area.

A thankfully small and empty tub waited for him to use all by himself. Taking his wand out of his pocket, Harry discarded his rags on a bench and put the blackened piece of wood onto a table next to the bath. He made a pleased note of all the different bottles sitting there. Shivering from the draft, the vampire hurried to get waist-deep into the warm water.

The vampire lent back against the tub's edge pondering his dilemma. _"Although I have found other immortals now, they not only dislike me," _his new-found friend came to mind and he reluctantly amended, "_for the very most part, but they are also just not...of my kind." _

Closing his eyes in a depressed manner, he realised, that if _anything_ he wanted _human_ contact. That was ultimately his race and having gained immortality didn't mean he suddenly felt he could be happy with beings that were as different to him as night was to day.

"You should use this on your hair." The vampire's eyes shot open only to see that his elven acquaintance had truly dared to come in. _"What is it with these people and not respecting privacy?!" _At the elf's prompting look Harry remembered that the blond was offering him something and the vampire finally looked at him properly despite his embarrassment to find the elf holding some bottle filled with a viscous green liquid.

Deciding that if the elf just walked in on him bathing purposefully, he wouldn't be above, rubbing that stuff into the dark mess himself, so he grabbed it quickly and made a jerky movement with his head to tell the elf to get lost.

Keeping all thoughts of the future, past and still present elf from his mind, he concentrated on getting the grime and blood of all these past battles off his person. To his mild surprise the previously fragrant, purplish water quickly gained a colour that successfully drove a disgusted elf away.

It was quite a while later that Harry was satisfied with his state of cleanliness and called for his friend, who had been waiting at the entrance with a towel for a while.

After drying himself he put the clothes, Haldir had found for him previously, on. The wizard suppressed a deep sigh with some difficulty. Everything was too wide and long, especially the leggings that had to be rolled up at the bottom several times and it reminded him a lot of his youth, when he always wore hand-me-downs that fitted him a lot like these ones.

Not even gracing the elf who was having difficulty containing his laughter with so much as a glare the vampire crossed his arms over his chest and said, "We should go now. If I'm not completely mistaken, you need to pack, don't you?"

"Indeed I do," the elf replied sobering slightly.

His impending departure was obviously depressing the blond and Harry picking up his wand, decided to do his best to make this upcoming journey not too unpleasant and long for the elf. _"I need to think of a way to send him back home shortly after beginning our 'quest'..."_

A few hours later found Haldir's home in a very different state it had been in in the late morning. It was in complete disarray, as the elf packed what seemed to be his most prized possessions into a belt-poach and three small sacks. The vampire meanwhile admired the assortment of beautiful weapons the elf had laid out, probably undecided which to take with him.

The dark creature wondered whether the blond could even see in the darkness, as even though he himself could easily see quite well with only the dim twinkling of the star-like lights filtering in, he doubted it was enough for the other. Still the blond found his way around his place with an effortlessness that must have come from decades of living there.

Outside a group of softly chatting elves went by, which caused Haldir to suddenly prick up his ears. Smiling slightly, he announced, while binding the leather strings at the top of his last sack, "Your friends have arrived. Let's go and greet them." His eyes gained a humorous glint, as he turned to the vampire. "We do not want to give your friend Aragorn the false impression that he needs to make good of his threat, do we?"

Shaking his head, more at the elf's strange sense of humour than as an answer, he followed him out and down to the forest floor.

They found the company easily. The elves had build them a big tent on the ground and the eight of them were talking in hushed, yet - due to their misplacement in the endless song of Lórien - easy to follow voices.

Harry took a deep breath, as the other retreated to give him some time alone with the others. Taking a hold of the flap, he cleared his throat to warn them of his entrance and pushed it to the side.

Deathly silence settled over the tent immediately, as the group that had been in the middle of some story-telling realised, who had entered. After a moment some smiles greeted him, as well as a glare that declared someone had been quite happy without him. Gimli in his usual gruff way just huffed out in annoyance, "Fraternising with someone who almost shot you the day before!"

"Hey, Haldir is pretty OK, alright?" He received a disbelieving snort from Gimli, but whether this was a reply or rather meant to comment his to them most likely strange and almost incomprehensible way of talking Harry couldn't tell.

"So you have met the Lady?" Meriadoc half-stated from his place next to his curly-haired best friend.

Plopping down next to Boromir, the vampire shrugged, not quite meeting the hobbit's gaze. "Yes," he answered shortly. At their imploring looks, the vampire finally dropped his pride and bowed his head. "_They_ decided I should find the things I lost on my journey here and then go to a place called... I cannot even remember. Something along the lines of 'receiving final judgment'."

"What did you do to be judged by them?" Aragorn questioned sharply, causing Harry's head to snap up and give the man a sharp glare.

"That's just it! Nothing! This is all about what I _am_ not what I _did_!" Harry hissed, hating how he sounded like he was pitying himself.

An awkward silence filled the tent and it held strong for a few minutes, until Pippin came over and placed his small hand on the dark creature's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm sure everything will turn out for the best in the end. And if the elves of Lothlórien are anything like those of Mirkwood you should have no problems escaping from them. _Argh_!" A pillow had hit the small being hard in the back and almost made him tumble into Harry's lap. Everybody's gaze retraced the direction the pillow had come flying from and found their elven archer ready with a second in hand.

As it was sent flying though Pippin quickly hid behind the tall form of Boromir, so the pillow hit a very stunned vampire in the face. Everyone held their breath, as the vampire fixed the elf with a stare. Finally Harry raised an eyebrow and commented lightly, "And _you_ call _me_ childish?"

They spent this night light-hearted. Not thinking about what lay in the high reaches ahead or in the dark depths behind, but simply enjoying the time they spent together and hoping it wouldn't be the last.

_AN.: Sorry, to the elf-lovers, but I think it must be annoying to live in a place that is so bloody perfect that any change _must_ be a deterioration._


	10. Choosing a Path

I have finally remembered that there actually _used to be _vampires in Middle Earth, but since I cannot use this knowledge any more and it has only been mentioned in a short paragraph where Sauron turns into one, I think it is alright to ignore it.

**Warning**: A little blood

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 10 - Choosing a Path**

The vampire stared at the sleeping forms of his companions, astonished by the change in their behaviour. He was the only person up; no guard to keep them safe from _him_. Instead they were sleeping peacefully under his red-eyed stare.

_He_ was restless though and would have probably paced if there had been enough free space. The nearer daybreak (and with it his departure) drew, the stronger the feeling grew that there was something important he had forgotten to do. Still try as he might he couldn't remember what it was.

It was very late, or maybe early, when a movement behind the entrance of the tent caught Harry's attention and he was about to alert the others, when something compelled him to investigate it himself.

Careful not to step on anybody's wayward limbs Harry made his way to the flap, trying not to give whoever was outside a reason to believehe was aware of their presence.

Taking a hold of the material he drew it back cautiously at first, until he realised with great surprise that the person waiting there patiently was not an enemy at all, but the beautiful ruler of Lothlórien.

Galadriel was smiling at him serenely and whispered softly, obviously wanting the others to remain asleep, "Would you mind joining me for a walk, child?"

Harry refrained from all: raising an eyebrow in question, as it was very late for a stroll, glaring at the 'child' and blushing because of the small crush he had on the stunning elf-woman. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on a point behind the Lady, he nodded briskly.

The white-clothed elf seemed to hardly touch the ground as she led Harry away from the camp. The streets were empty and the lights were dim to permit the elves to sleep peacefully butGaladriel seemed to have no trouble finding her way.

After the two had been walking for a quite some time, the vampire found a small, nasty suspicion growing in his heart and although he decided not to inquire just yet, he made a mental note to be careful.

A while later an arch of twinkling lights came into view; it took Harry a moment to realise it was the gates of the city. Wondering why she was leading him there, the dark creature raised an eyebrow in his guide's direction.

A small, secretive smile was his answer and she answered the unasked question, "I want you to come with me to the pier, so we will arrive there a little earlier than everyone else." She sobered slightly, as she continued, "There are still things I want to talk to you about."

As they approached them the gates opened, seemingly of their own accord, revealing a pearly white bridge behind it. Strangely heavy-hearted and at the same time feeling free once more,Harry left the elven city behind.

Leaving the road they followed a path only the Lady could see through densely-growing foliage. The undead wizard found himself increasingly frustrated, since twigs and branches snagged on his clothes and sometimes seemed to literally lay themselves in his way, while she was allowed passage and able to walk unhindered. He didn't know any better than to assume this was a forest with some form of mind of its own.

Although it took them hours to finally reach a high, green wall, neither of them made a move to strike up a conversation. By this time the scratched up vampire was thoroughly annoyed, but he still obediently followed the female elf through the unnoticeable opening in the over-grown defensive structure. As he left the trees behind he gratefully brushed off the last wicked branches that had tried too hard to hold him in place.

They now stood on a meadow that glistened in the moonlight, as the flowers growing there were of a golden colour.

On either side of him were rivers, but one was dark and foreboding, while the other stream seemed to gurgle playfully and friendly, twinkling like liquid silver in the dim light the moon and the stars provided. Farther ahead the two joined to produce an even greater and due to its depths darker river.

It took him a moment to realise that Galadriel had not paused in her tracks and Harry hurried to catch up with her. They slowly approached a wholly white wharf on the side of the merrier river. Looking at the many white and grey boats floating peacefully on the water, Harry realised that they would travel by boat, which the vampire knew could turn into a very unpleasant experience, since he could not swim any more.

The Lady gestured to a subdued-looking dark grey boat next to her and said, "This boat will carry you and Haldir on the first part of your journey. Your travelling companion and many others who want to see you two off will arrive shortly."

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised an eyebrow in question, wanting to finally find out why they had come here so early.

The Lady of the Wood took her time though and instead of answering turned away from him and approached the dark-grey boat. "I have seen to providing you with provisions and clothes myself." Kneeling down gracefully, she took hold of a blanket in the middle part of the boat and revealed that there were indeed clothes, flasks and something that had been wrapped in leaves. Smoothing out the material of what looked like some kind of top, she apologised, "I hope they fit. We tried to adjust them to your stature, but we had very little time."

Surprised and impressed that they even bothered with trying to fit them at all, Harry assured her hastily, "I'm sure they will be quite fine. Thank you very much!"

Smiling amusedly Galadriel turned her head slightly, so she could look at him out of the corner of her eyes. "I also want to give you a gift, as a sign of my gratitude for the honour of being your host short as it has been and to remind you that you may give people hope..." Her eyes gained a mischievous spark. "...even if many may be hesitant to take it."

Curious the vampire leant forward as she pulled the blanket farther back, revealing a strange object Harry had never seen before. With some difficulty she picked it up and placed the bulky object into a stunned vampire's hands.

Weighing it in his hands, Harry realised that it was a hammer more than half as tall and probably weighing more than he himself. It was made of steel and as his eyes met hers, he finally concluded that it had to be some sort of weapon. Taking a step back from her he swung the crude weapon around a little, noticing amusedly that it matched his fighting style (or rather lack thereof) perfectly by actually only requiring immense physical strength to be wielded.

Returning to the Lady's side, he smiled, but while he searched for words that would show the gratitude that would be expected of someone who had been given a present by a powerful ruler, she held up her hand, laughing lightly. "There is no need to think your words over so hard. Your face is unguarded and speaks more than we have the time to discuss. I will simply take this smile, as your response."

Harry blushed fiercely, at the immortal's teasing and although he tried to drain the blood from his face, the tinkling laughter that the female issued told him, she must have noticed the dark colour staining his otherwise stark white skin.

Controlling her mirth, she looked at him once more and her ancient eyes that were filled with wisdom stared at him, daring him to ask her what he had been wondering for a while.

"Would you advice me to leave now without Haldir?" Harry didn't know why he cared for her opinion on the matter as much as he did; he usually acted by his own judgement alone and cared little what others thought about his decision. "Would you advice me to follow him to the place your husband wants me to go?"

She shook her head slowly and somewhat sadly chided, "I am not your advisor, so I will not advice you to do either. I believe that _you_ know the way that will suit you best for yourself, but let me tell you as a friend and ally that you can trust Haldir. He is an honourable elf and already respects you greatly as a warrior and friend."

"So you want me to..." Harry stopped himself from continuing, as he realised she wouldn't tell him anything aside from this small hint. The vampire shook his head realising it didn't really matter.

His strategy would be the same one it has always been, one which had lead to both success and failure in equal sums: Decide every step of the way, when it came to it and trust his instincts to tell him what to do.

The vampire carefully placed the heavy hammer back into the boat, causing it to sink a few inches deeper into the water and again hid it from curious eyes under the blanket. A feeling told him that Celeborn would show up soon, as he would want to see with his own eyes that the threat had left his land. Harry didn't want to cause the nice elf next to him any more trouble with her husband than he seemed to already have done. The male elf would no doubt disapprove of his wife giving him a present - a weapon of all things!

He observed the elven woman out of the corner of his eyes, as she watched the horizon grow ever lighter in colour.

Usually people were fascinated by the magnificent display of colour no matter how often they have seen it, but her eyes were dark and clouded with age and Harry couldn't help but read a clear message in them: 'One day like the one before'.

Slightly ashamed because he knew how little this emotion helped people, the wizard noticed that he pitied her. Taking in the blank expressionfor a while longer, the vampire shuddered at the mere thought of existing long enough to grow so tired of _everything_.

He was about to start his conversation with her anew, but the rustle of clothes against grass, light footfalls and a few heavier feet kept him from addressing the ruler.

Dreading the other elves' arrival, he turned to see very many elves emerge over the top of the hill's gentle slope. Although his vision was already beginning to decrease in sharpness as the sun was rising swiftly he could easily make out the fellowship.

"Are you ready to embark on our journey?" Harry jumped as the voice had sounded directly next to his ear and he whirled around in the direction. Seeing blonde hair and the slightly androgyne features, the vampire just managed to stop his fist from slamming into the elf's middle.

"What do you think you are doing?" Harry snarled in fury, not liking that the other had been able to sneak up on him.

Looking at the vampire with a slightly raised eyebrow, he replied, "I was inquiring whether you were prepared to set out?" The elf gave him a perfectly innocent look, as though he really did have no idea what he had done to anger the other.

Not for the first time the vampire could only shake his head at the elf, wondering whether he just had a strange sense of humour or whether the blond _really _needed such a long time to understand that humans weren't quite like elves.

Instead he turned his attention to the group of four hobbits, two men and one dwarf that were standing a slight distance apart from the many elves that had come. Although it mattered little to him, Harry couldn't find Legolas. He had most likely disappeared in the sea of dark-haired elves.

Knowing he wasn't good at saying goodbye and hoping that they would meet again, Harry simply gave the company a little wave and crooked smile. This smile didn't waver as he bowed deeply and awkwardly before his beautiful ally. He didn't wait for anybody's reaction, turning around swiftly.

Kneeling down he took a firm hold of the sides of the boat and clumsily climbed in. He winced as the boat rocked dangerously, but was soon relieved to find Haldir had steadied it with a slight frown. The two exchanged looks, before the elf quickly opened the knots keeping the boat anchored and then nimbly climbed in on the opposite end.

The vampire kept his gaze determinedly away from the people seeing them off, as Haldir skilfully manoeuvred them around the many obstacles in their path out of the small harbour.

At last Harry couldn't keep his eyes from shifting back over his shoulder, but the mass of people had disappeared from view long ago. The vampire had to acknowledge the slightly lost feeling deep in his chest at leaving the people behind, that had guided him out of the darkness.

The sky was darkening again, when Haldir finally asked the question Harry had been dreading to hear. "Where do you think it is?"

"What do you mean by 'it'?" The vampire winced slightly at the bad attempt to stall time, but he had actually no idea where to start looking. Haldir would surely _not_ like to hear that his companion had forgotten a _some_ time ago, where he had last seen his bag.

Surprisingly the elf sighed and turned around slightly to give his friend an unreadable look over his shoulder. "You do not know where, do you? This is just a ruse to put off going to the Havens, is it not?"

Feeling guilty at not having discussed this with his companion before now, Harry told his friend to take them to the shore. It was quite late anyway and his friend needed rest from rowing.

The vampire got slightly uncomfortable as the trees of the forest they found themselves in had lost their leaves, while Lothlórien had been golden-crowned and floored with fresh grass and flowers.

It was then that he finally noticed how cold it was and he started to tremble slightly, as his usual detachment from his body was broken.

"Would you mind gathering fire wood, while I build the camp?" Harry winced, hearing how Haldir had gone back to his guarded, stern tone.

The wizard decided it was time to give the other some truths if he wanted to allow this person to remain his companion for a longer period of time.

Standing up he pulled out his wand from the sleeve it was usually hidden in.

It amused him that the elf at first didn't react to the sound of firewood stacking itself in a neat pile. It was also worrying though, as - if he had not completely overestimated the elves' abilities – it meant the other was brooding.

After a while he thought the pile was more than big enough and ended the charm. Haldir was still searching through the contents of the things Galadriel had presented them with. It was obvious though that the elf's mind was elsewhere. _"Probably home."_

In order to snap the blond out of his thoughts Harry asked, "Do you want me to start the fire, too?"

It was not surprising that the elf didn't answer. He simply continued sifting through the things in the boat.

Coughing to draw the other's attention, the vampire slowly approached his troubled guard and friend, "Haldir, do you want me to make a fire?"

That he still wasn't rewarded with an answer disturbed the dark creature and he wondered whether he should leave the other to his thoughts or talk to him.

In the end Harry lightly placed his hand on the other's arm, causing the warrior's body to jerk violently away from him and his hand to close around the hilt of his sword.

As the blond realised, who had caught him unawares, he again went through the items under the blanket, obviously trying to hide his embarrassment. When he had regained his composure Haldir asked his companion a little miffed, "What is it you want?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm finished gathering wood. Do you want me to start a fire, too?"

Raising an eyebrow the elf gave him a look that stated: _'If you have the prowess to make the wet sticks catch fire, why do you ask for my permission?'_. About to finally start setting up their camp the elf took hold of an armful of things, but Harry took a firm hold of his arm, leading his friend to the indeed quite wet pile of wood.

Catching the surprised elf's eyes he pointed the blackened wand at the pile and muttered an incantation. Red eyes observed curiously as the elf's eyes widened and flitted agitatedly between the black-haired wizard, his wand and bluish burning fire.

The elf's face was quite abruptly schooled into the slightly haughty mask he had worn when they first met. The vampire noted that the blond's hand hovered over his weapon now and he was sure that if his friend wasn't as proud and brave as he was, he would have backed a few steps away. "What is this devilry?" he hissed suspiciously.

"Magic," the wizard answered simply, shrugging for mere effect and to his relief his casual answer seemed to lighten Haldir's guard somewhat. Finally he told the elf, "You want to know what is going on and to happen and I guess you deserve to know." Motioning towards the fire Harry turned around, knowing the other's curiosity would make him follow obediently.

The vampire sat down very close to the fire and couldn't help smile nostalgically, as he was pulled backwards, so he sat at a more respectful distance from the flames. Hermione used to do that often when they were younger and sitting in front of the fireplace. She had often lectured him on his dangerous affinity to all hot things.

He whipped the amused expression off his face though, when the elf sat down next to him. The elf's whole posture demanded that the vampire started telling him everything he and so many others had been dyingto find out ever since the strange being first showed up.

Harry tried to ignore the voices calling him stupid entrusting his story to yet another person, one who might abuse this knowledge and the wizard forced Galadriel's words to come back to the forefront of his mind. _"Did she know it would come to this?"_

As he opened his mouth and started telling his story, he focused on the small voices in the back of his mind that encouraged and defended his decision to tell Haldir everything; at least as much as he needed to know to understand.

The mere reason that he wanted someone, apart from Saruman to know him, helped him a little.

This time it wasn't clever, charming and partly magical prodding that saw him through his tale, but his own volition.

Haldir just sat next to him and stared blankly into the flames. If the undead didn't know better, he'd say the other had stopped listening to him long ago.

It gave the vampire the pleasant feeling that the elf was not there and he was actually only reciting a rough outline of his so-called life to himself.

When Harry's tale finally reached his arrival in Caras Galadhon, he decided to give the other a little more detail so the other would understand why he had decided, they had to part ways or at least change their destination.

At length the elf had let everything sink in and nodded. "I believe I understand your unwillingness to do as the Lord's and Lady's bade you, now. You cannot go to Valinor. Not only, because you have hardly adjusted to leaving your first home, yet, but also because you do not belong there. Your heart seeks mortality and will not find it there. Maybe we will find your 'last great adventure', Harry."

"So, are you going to return to Lothlórien?" Harry asked half-hopeful to regain his whole freedom and half-afraid to be alone again.

The elf stared off into the darkness depressed. "It is my greatest wish that this were possible, but it is not. I cannot go back. How would I explain that I did not escort you like I was ordered to? Either I would have to tell the truth or lie and say you fled. Both would dishonour my name."

The vampire winced, beginning to realise just how much he had disrupted his friend's life. He was too proud to apologise for something he had no control over though, so he simply bid the other a good night, as the elf prepared himself a place to sleep.

It was more than a month later that the two had given up even the pretence of searching for the bag. They had builta more or less permanent camp near a lake. When one of them sighted orcs they usually just changed the location to a more secluded place, instead of forcing a confrontation.

They of course had no intention to linger much longer, but they could not make up their minds on where to head next and they had agreed that they had no reason to hurry. Both had more than enough time and since Haldir was a skilled hunter and had nothing better to do than put those skills to use, neither had to worry about running out of food.

In the beginning this left Harry alone and bored, as he could not join in the other's hunt, but he started exploring the area and was soon especially fascinated by the deep falls that lake ended with. Sometimes he could even find some early sprouting plants he could identify, although his knowledge of herbology and potions was_ highly_ rusty. He collected a few and dried themwhen he felt like it, as they might come in handy if his friend got hurt.

If he was completely honest with himself he didn't really have any intention to use the plants; he had hardly made any potions since his graduation, as he loathed this particular kind of magic. The only thing he was likely to produce was poison.

It was on one of his trips that he suddenly found himself with the tip of a blade nicking into the side of his neck.

Eyes wide in surprise, the vampire tensed, but refrained from moving otherwise.

A cold voice commanded, "Put your hands where I can see them and turn around; _slowly_." The vampire took note of the lilting tone and deduced that his abductor was an elf. He knew most beings of Middle Earth would think he was crazy, but in that moment he wished the attacker were an orc instead. Those were less dangerous.

Seeing that he didn't have a choice, Harry did as he was told, silently cursing himself for letting his guard down. He knew though that even if he had been on his guard the elf would have been able to creep up on him with little difficulty.

Glaring daggers at the person in front of him, he took immediate notice of the familiar tremble and the slightly panicked glint in the other's eyes. Studying the slightly familiar, hate-twisted face, Harry began to make connections, as the blond hair flew about the fearful elf like a halo. "Are you by any chance related to Haldir?" As an answer the blade dug deeper into the skin of his neck and Harry hissed slightly in pain, which the other ignored.

"My name is Rúmil and you are the reason I lost everything: My family's love, my honour and my status."

"I'm sorry?" He wasn't really sorry at all, but he felt he _had to_ say something sympathetic to that introduction. In fact if he was correct this was Haldir's brother and he had little love for cowards like him.

"Do you think that suffices? An _apology_?!" the other snarled furiously.

"Probably not, but is it my fault that you are not what everybody expected you to be?" Harry asked rhetorically, deciding that beginning a conversation with his would-be murderer might give him the opportunity to disarm the other, calm him down or give Haldir the time to come to his rescue.

The other seemed a little lost, as he probably hadn't been prepared to be counter attacked by reason. "Is it _my_ fault that _you_ of all fell beasts had to show yourself at our borders, so shortly after I reached my maturity?"

"Probably not, but you wouldn't have fared all that much better had it happened right now, would you?" He placed his gaze pointedly on the other's hand, which was still trembling and thus causing the sword to aggravate the wound, which it was still stuck in, quite painfully.

Grey eyes widened at that blatant comment, but instead of digging deeper into the frail neck of the man before him, the elf acknowledged the truth and nodded in defeat. "I just don't have what it takes to be a warrior, but all of my close kin have been Marchwardens, so it was expected of me to take this role instead of that of a scholar."

Harry didn't reply, but he privately thought that such fates were the reason why the feudal system did not work in his world forever and why it wouldn't do so here either.

Suddenly the sword was removed from the vampire's neck and he contemplated making a run for it or disarming the elf and taking him prisoner.

Before the wizard could decide Rúmil held out a slightly worn-looking, very familiar bag by one strap. "Here, I think this belongs to you. It was found years ago in the River Limlight and when the contents were sorted through, it was given to Galadriel for safe keeping."

Numbly taking it, Harry watched as the elf backed away quickly, but Rúmil didn't turn around and break into a run until he had said, "Tell Haldir I'm waiting for him in Valinor in hopes that he may find it in him to forgive me by the time he journeys there."

The vampire blinked as the elf disappeared as swiftly into the trees, as he had snuck up on Harry a few minutes earlier.

The situation and what had been said only slowly started to come back and make sense, but when it did his eyes widened. He found himself staring at the bag in his hand incredulously. It _really_ was his and none the worse for wear.

Shaking his head, he slung it over his shoulder, intend on informing his companion of this newest development.

Of course the vampire didn't find Haldir and only managed to get himself a little lost for a while, but in the end the elf came back in his own time.

Wordlessly Harry held up the bag, they should have been searching for and had actually been found long ago.

A blank mask settled over the elf's features, as he eyed the bag with a dark expression.

"Someone brought it here. It was in Lady Galadriel's possession all along. I can only assume she hid this from her husband, because she wanted to study its contents." The vampire kept his voice neutral with a great effort.

Looking at the other with a tone also lacking emotion, the elf asked, "Where has the messenger gone to? We could question him further."

Remembering that he was supposed to deliver a message, the vampire gave his friend an uncertain look, wondering what effect his words would have on the elf. "He said he would wait for you in erm... 'Valinor' and hope that you will have forgiven him by the time you go there..." Licking his lips, as he saw the suspicion on his friend's face, he nodded to confirm it. "It was your brotherRúmil."

"Don't call him that!" the elf snarled at him, but Harry knew the anger was not really directed at him. "A brother of mine would never resort to kin-slaying; least of all due to plain cowardice!"

Not willing to contradict that Rúmil had been a chicken, he instead opted to say, "If I didn't misunderstand, he was quite young."

Seeing the other only produce a sound vaguely resembling a grunt, Harry tried, "Come on this has happened _twenty years ago_! Do you want to spend eternity like this; furious with your brother, because he just doesn't have what it takes to be a warrior?!"

Although the wizard knew he was beginning to sympathise with someone who had held a sword to his neck not too long ago, he could not help wanting the brothers to make amends. Harry had always wanted siblings.

Noticing how fury had twisted the elf's face at the mere mention of forgiving his brother, Harry changed the topic to a question that was beginning to eat at his heart. "She never wanted me to stay on our appointed route did she?" There was no need to specify which person was meant.

Haldir shook his head. "Nay, I think the Lady never intended for _us _to go to the Havens. Our road likely always lead elsewhere in her scheming..."

The boy-who-lived frowned. _"Have I been turned into a pawn again?"_

_**AN.: Hey, this is an anniversary, since it is the tenth chapter, so I'd like to ask you all to review and tell me what you think of the story so far.**_


	11. Superiority

**Warning: **Blood and death (kinda)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**Read this before complaining, please:** (For all those, who are going to say this chapter was neither like what happened in the book nor in the movie) That is my intention. Celeborn isn't all that wrong, thinking Harry is screwing things up in Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 11 - Superiority**

Harry watched with great amusement as the elf let loose another string of musical words. If the creature uttering them had not been wearing such a foul expressions and had not hissed them quite as much, the dark creature might have mistaken them for a poem. The blond didn't even bother glaring at him or cursing him in a language the dark creature understood any more.

It seemed like Haldir had many talents, but dealing with _constant_ undivided attention, while he was trying his hardest to fall asleep was not among them.

Not even trying to act as though he didn't desire such a reaction, Harry gave the elf a mockingly innocent smile. The black-haired man wasn't really 'doing' anything to aggravate the blond. He was merely keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the other for the past hour_ unblinkingly_.

Usually the old wizard would have sneered at any grown-up man, passing their time with such childish activities as annoying someone for the mere fun of it. It was just that he couldn't help but want to keep the elf up for as long as possible; to be awake the whole night alone was more than a little boring.

Finally the previously ever-turning elf was very still. He lay on his side facing the irritating blood-sucker with a very frustrated expression twisting his fair features. In a strained voice he ordered the other slowly, "Harry, catch me a deer."

The undead human blinked in confusion. "You do know every animal flees if I'm somewhere in the vicinity…?"

"Yes. I am hoping this task will keep you occupied for the duration of the night," the beautiful, but sometimes quite irritable being admitted bluntly. The vampire opened his mouth to protest against being ordered around, but the elf wisely added the challenge, "Of course I know you will never be able to hunt down anything." Ignoring how the other's mouth dropped slightly, Haldir continued, "Now please do be on your way."

Feeling slightly miffed, as he recognised an occupational-tacticwhen someone was using it on him, Harry wandered off. If he kept bugging the other any longer it would just cause an argument anyway.

There was also this little voice that screamed that he wouldn't let the other win. It couldn't be too hard to find and kill some wild, stupid animal, he thought. Everybody else in this world seemed to be doing it all the time after all.

So Harry trudged off into the woods without any idea what he had to do. Therefore it isn't too surprising that the vampire lost interest in his unsolvable job soon and found himself relaxing on a flat, dry rock. The dark creature suddenly frowned as the faint trace of something unsettling, yet very familiar, was carried to him on the wind.

Sniffing slightly he confirmed the unsettling discovery: the smell of human blood and fear was in the air. Although it probably came from a relatively large distance away there was no mistaking the distinct fragrance.

Knowing that this didn't bode well, Harry decided to get his currently sleeping back-up and took off running as fast as he could while still being able to avoid every tree-trunk in his way. Whatever was losing blood was losing a lot of it and would not survive long.

Branches and underbrush whipped his face and hands, but to his surprise every part of his body that was covered with the leathery, elvish cloth only registered mild stinging pains whenever they were hit.The strange material proved very durable and didn't tear, despite the harsh treatment. Sending a silent 'thanks' to the golden lady, living farther up the river, he broke from the trees into Haldir's and his campsite.

He must have been noisier than he thought because he discovered that the elf was ready for battle, strapping his sword to his hip. Only once he was finished securing the weapon, did he acknowledge the vampire. "You could be heard throughout the whole forest. What has agitated you so?"

"Someone's hurt. We need to find them." That was all Harry deemed necessary to be said. He only waited long enough to wordlessly accept the blunt, bulky weaponthe elf handed him before taking off again, having trouble to run at a pace the other could keep up with. The weight of the massive hammer in his hands went almost unnoticed now.

Concentrating hard on the scent, and slowly but surely also the sounds of a fighting, Harry dashed past trees that were slowly moving farther apartas they neared the Anduin.

The vampire only slowed down slightly when he noticed the flickering light of a flame;he couldn't help but watch for a short moment. It was entrancing how the silhouettesof bodies whirled this way and that in the shine of the fire. Glisteningswords, axes and other weapons the wizard couldn't name clashed and almost drowned out the shouts of anger and pain.

The scent of blood that had been luring him here was now almost painfully inveigling. To keep himself from becoming yet another danger to the people he wanted to help, Harry took a deep swallow of blood from his flask.

He glanced at his friend to make sure he was ready. Although he was breathing a little more deeply than he usually did, his posture and the unsheathed, gleaming sword showed that the other was more than prepared for battle. Turning back towards the fight, he nodded firmly and started sprinting.

When the thing he was attacking turned around, Harry had a spilt second to be surprised at its appearance. For it was an orc, but larger, darker and far better equipped than he was used to.

It mattered little to him though. Using his momentum he swung the mighty hammer at the startled monster's ugly head, trying to ignore the horrible, cracking sound and the feeling of something hard giving way to his forceful hit.

In the desperate want to not see the result of his brutal attack, Harry shifted his attention to his next foe and discovered that the mass of orcs had not only noticed him, but also surrounded him during the momentit took him to dispose of their comrade.

The vampire couldn't help but waste a few seconds in alarm, because the situation had changed so fast. As they grinned viciously showing off remarkable fangs, Harry nervously realised that they were not frightened but rather thrilled by the prospect of this new challenge. This was a rather new and intimidating situation.

Most of the big monsters were wearing helmets, but that wouldn't do them much good against Harry's hammer. He could easily crack those shells, so he confidently rushed forward in hopes of catching the orcs in front of him by surprise. Something completely unexpected happened. The orcs managed to avoid Harry's attack and a sharp searing pain in his back told him, that instead he had been caught by an orc from behind.

Whirling around a few times in his confusion, Harry tried to comprehend what was happening. It should be impossible for the orcs to be this fast. It was just not _possible_!

Yet they were.

An orc attacked him with a speedthe vampire could only barely match. In the nick of time he instinctively held his hammer up to block the axe that would have easily parted him in two.

His attackers had obviously noticed that he was hardly a match for one of them, so they allowed this one beast to fight him alone. Harry did his best to block most of the swings, but finally the massive blade struck him in the side, making it quite far in. Annoyed with the vampire's lack of fighting skills, the beast grunted in displeasure and yanked the soiled axe back out just as quickly.

Harry broke down in pain and instinctively closed his eyes as he anticipated more to come, but he only earned laughter from the watching orcs at his poor performance. It seemed like the monster wanted the battle to last a little longer.

He finally looked up and met his opponent'sgaze. Suddenly everything made sense, yet the realisation made him slump forward in disbelief and fear. His red eyes had found twins in the disgusting face.

Although this created dozens of new questions and hundreds of disastrous problems, things made sense now.

"Stand up!" he heard the voice of what could only be one of those creatures. It had a little likeness to the sound of fingernails against a chalkboard, he mused dryly, as an impatient, clawed hand grabbed him by his neck. He didn't resist and let his weapon fall from his hand. Inconspicuously he fumbled through his pocket with his other one.

When he was finally face-to-face with his enemy Harry dropped the defenceless, beaten façade and grinned, yelling, "Iubar!"

He screamed as his body turned into his other form in a split second as the powerful spell sent waves of gleaming light crushing down on them. The pain became bearable for him though, as he heard his scream echoed from the other vampires and felt them shy away from him.

Encouraged by the results of his charm, he poured even more power into it, since the vampires wouldn't even be uncomfortable if the light wasn't strong enough.

It seemed to be working as he could hear and feel them scurry away. When they were finally gone Harry allowed the spell to end. He kept his wand in his hand just in case though.

A groan near the now sand-covered, smouldering pile of wood – an orc probably tried to gain an even bigger advantage by putting it out - caught his attention. Placing an arm over his bleeding side, he bit back his own pain, as he became aware of the ragged breathing of several living beings. He came to his slightly unsteady feet and spent a precious second to utter a curse, as the first prone body was easily identified as Haldir. Stumbling over to him, he clumsily checked him for signs of heavy injury. Harry smiled slightly in relief as his probing, awkward hands were soon batted away impatiently. "Check the others first Harry, they are in greater need of help than I," with that the blond sat up with minimal difficulty and all but crawled over to the nearest person.

It was the first time he clearly saw whom they had rescued and he winced. In front of the elf lay a tall, injured man, who was far too familiar for comfort. It was Aragorn; a man who had always worn strength like an aura. Seeing the natural leader in this vulnerable position worried Harry more than the little blood trickling from a small injury on the man's arm and the big bump at the side of his head.

Looking around, Harry made out three more familiar forms. Two were struggling to sit up; one was frighteningly still.

The fellowship had been broken. Shuddering the wizard wondered what had happened to the hobbits, but then swiftly abandoned the thought, he didn't really want to imagine it.

"Harry!" The living corpse turned his attention towards his friend. "Do make a fire, please. You might be able to check people for injuries in the dark, but I am certainly not."

While Harry rekindled the fire with magic, he was aware of the two conscious individuals, dragging the unmoving body over to the suddenly flickering flames.

Seeing that Gimli and Legolas weren't badly hurt, but very exhausted, Harry stood up, went over and took the still form from them. He felt a sharp pain in his chest seeing Boromir in such a pitiful condition. The gruesome wounds on his neck spoke volumes about what happened to him.

He had come too late. Fetching Haldir had been the wrong decision.

Although there was no hope in his heart, he tried to find a heartbeat or breath in the far too still body. There was none. Nothing. The warmth had left him a while ago as well.

Harry lay the corpse down by the fire and bowed his head in respect, ignoring the ragged breath of the living, which rang sharply in his ears. Feeling numb, Harry emotionlessly asked the two wide-eyed creatures next to him, "Did they make him drink some of their blood?" The two looked at each other questioningly and with slowly growing-grief, as their confusion drained and slowly realisation set in.

Letting his hand hover over the man's nose and mouth to confirm his suspicion, Legolas answered, "It all happened so swiftly! One moment we were sleeping, then Aragorn yelled at us to get up and I had just enough time to draw my weapons, before I was involved in a battle with an Uruk of a more lethal kind than I have ever faced before."

The dwarf just nodded mutely to confirm that he hadn't seen what happened to the man either.

Closing his eyes and concentrating on the gurgling river, the vampire tried to calm down. He succeeded more or less and soon was in a state of mind that allowed him to think rather clearly.

Absentmindedly he ordered Legolas and Gimli to clean each other's wounds, while he searched through their destroyed camp for a cauldron.

When the old wizard finally found something usable, it turned out to be the now dented kettle Sam had given him to cook their meal a few weeks ago. Harry couldn't help but let his thoughts stray back to the virtuous little creatures whohad disappeared without a trace.

Shaking his head to clear it, he filled the cauldron with water from the river and placed it over the bluish fire.

Adding a few of the plants he stored in a small pouch at his hip to the water, he prayed that he wasn't making any mistakes. He doubted the mixture was supposed to have a sulphur-yellow colour.

He needn't have worried by the time it was finished it had darkened until it was a familiar orange. He remembered the potion being coloured like this when he was young. He almost found himself smiling as he mused that spending so much time in the hospital wing did prove to be a little useful after all.

Filling the cup, he had previously been using to stir the potion, with the steaming liquid, he turned to the others. Aragorn had by now come to and was helping the others treat their wounds.

"Haldir?" he asked a little timidly. He was more or less sure that the potion would work fine, but he was still worried.

An eyebrow was raised in reply, but it settled back down as the blond winced, because Aragorn, who was currently dressing a vicious cut on his thigh, was a little too rough. A quiet elvish apology was uttered, then there was silence once more.

"This should help you recover more quickly," Harry informed the elf. The other already made a motion to take the cup from his outstretched hand, so he quickly added, "You need to consider though that I haven't made this particular potion for years… If I have made a mistake it could have dire consequences."

A small, tentative smile tugged at the elf's lips, as he took the cup from the man's hands anyway. "I trust your abilities, young wizard." He swallowed it all and immediatelylooked like he was about to throw up.

The others gasped and looked at him in alarm, but Harry only gave Haldir comforting look and told him, "Sorry, I forgot to warn you. It's supposed to taste horrible. Don't worry."

This was rewarded with a discrete sigh of relief, before the elf decided to glare at him. The reproachful look vanished suddenly, as the blond's eyes widened in astonishment. Harry assumed that the pain must have vanished then.

"So it worked…" Harry mumbled. As the blond returned the cup, he refilled it and handed it to the other three one after another.

The sorrow was beginning to drown the group, Harry could tell as much and the silence was not helping anybody. He knew though that starting with the things he really wanted and needed to know would just send the others into an even more depressed and brooding state; so in the end he opted to comment, "You know,if I'm not very mistaken your shallow wounds should have been healed, so you can take most of those bandages off again." Haldir raised one eyebrow, but decided to look underneath one of the clothes anyway and if his impressed expression was anything to go by, discovered that Harry was right. He began to unravel the fresh cloth again, revealing unmarred pale skin.

"Why did you not inform us that you could do this? Bandaging our wounds was a complete waste of time!" It seemed grief did little to improve Legolas' attitude concerning him, but for now Harry let it slide. The undead shrugged. "Like I said before I wasn't sure whether this would work." He belatedly added, as Legolas began to unravel a cloth from around his chest, "You shouldn't expect all of your cuts to be closed either. I'm not a professional healer."

Indeed, although it didn't look all that bad now, there was still a nasty slash on the elf's front. Sending Harry an annoyed look, the other's human friend began redoing the bandage.

"Aragorn, what did you see?" the vampire finally asked. "The others said you were the one who was standing watch, you probably know the most."

Still wrapping the cloth around the other male, the mortal didn't look up as he said, "I heard the orcs approaching long before they were anywhere near, since they did nothing to mask their presence. A feeling told me that this was an enemy we couldn't beat, so I threw Sam and Frodo, who were lyingnext to me into one of the boats and placed a blanket over them. I pushed their boat off only a moment before the first orcs arrived, but they didn't notice."

Looking over to the other side of the lake, Harry thought he could indeed make out the vague shape of a boat.

"We need to call them back!" Legolas exclaimed determinedly. "Let us decide together, where we should go." After a small pause he added, "I'd personally suggest heading for Minas Tirith. If Mordor is indeed filled with creatures like those we have just faced, we cannot hope to make it to Mount Doom safely."

Gimli half-shook, half-nodded his head, as though he wasn't sure whether he wanted to agree or not. "None of us have been bound by our word to follow Frodo to the end of his journey, but I cannot desert him. Even if I'd rather go to Minas Tirith, too, I'd also follow him, if he made a different decision."

"I will stay by his side, _too_. It would be dishonorable to leave Frodo now," the elf amended his earlier statement.

"It would be indeed be betrayal, if we all left him," Aragorn said, although he was shaking his head at them wanting to follow, "but he is not alone, he has Sam with him and I think this is more company than he decided to take with him. Maybe this is for the best; two hobbits will have better chances of slipping unnoticed past the Dark Lord's defences."

Harry gave his blond friend a quizzical look, wondering whether he was the only one who didn't understand a word the man said. He found eyes that mirrored his own confusion to some degree, but the wizard could see how things clicked into place in the elf's mind already.

"There is another thing I have witnessed before I was beaten by my opponent. Two orcs have taken Merry and Pippin," Aragorn admitted with great shame, obviously blaming himself for this, since he had seen it happen, but had been unable to stop it.

"They have whom?!" the vampire let lose a very foul stream of curses, as his fears of what had happened to the little ones had just come true. "We need to help them! The vampires will not wait for long before having a snack!"

In his fury, the short man stood up and would have probably begun pursuingthe orcs right then and there, but an outraged exclamation stopped him dead in his tracks, "You cannot want to leave Boromir like this; for animals to feast upon!"

Meeting the eyes of the angry brunette elf, Harry looked at the other with great shame. He had completely forgotten that they had casualties in this battle. It might even be more horrible than the others thought. As the killer had been a vampire there was the chance that Boromir would have to face a fate that was worse than death. Harry knew he had to check this, before assuming the worst, so he knelt by the man's side and placed his fingers on the closed cold eyelids shuddering. He slowly and cautiously pulled the eyelid back up, causing the others protest loudly.

They immediately fell silent in horror, as the dead body reacted to the touch.

The vampire grimaced, as the corpse tried to move away from his hand, as though the light touch caused it even greater pain, than it was already suffering from. It probably did. Coming back was excruciating, as the body protested against being forced to continue its service by sending agony shooting throughout the body.

He looked down on Boromir, wishing he didn't see that precious red liquid, which stained his neck and clothes. The vampire would have liked not to know with such sickening clarity that the warrior was dead, although he had returned to walk among the living. The man did not deserve this.

Giving the others a look of lost distress, he noticed that the others had recoiled; theirfaces openly showed confusion, shock and fear. He couldn't even blame them. In this world it must have been even more unusual than in his to see a dead person trash around and letting out mute screams.

As the freshly reborn vampire started to make more violent movements in his direction, Harry snapped the others out of their shock with the command, "Drag that orc over here! It might just be enough."

Although they looked at him questioningly, they did as they were told, probably having come to the conclusion that he knew what he was doing. Of all people it was Legolas, who went over to the orc-corpse that was the least mangled.

Harry couldn't help but feel impressed that the others had managed to dispose of two other vampires. It was unheard of that muggles managed to kill vampires on their own.

One had been decapitated like his - which was probably either Boromir's or Aragorn's work - the others were unlikely to have the strength and height to do so, while an arrow was protruding from the other's head. The wizard hadn't even known that that could kill a vampire.

While Legolas stood above this particular orc, which he seemed to deem touchable, a horrible thought suddenly struck Harry. He was about to yell a warning, when the beast's red eyes shot open. It grabbed an axe that had been discarded and forgotten in the sand and would have cut Legolas in half, had it not been for Aragorn. In a swift, but strong movement he swung his long sword in a wide arc.

Harry scrunched his eyes shut, but he still heard the gruesome thuds of body and head. "Yes, I almost forgot myself. Vampires are only _really _dead if you cut their heads off. So do make sure to do that even if they appear to have passed on for good."

After this incident even Gimli's face spoke volumes of the dark realisation he had come to. Bare of all hope the mortals stared at one another, an unspoken statement hung in the air: 'There is not a chance that we can beat this enemy.' To snap them out of their misery and so he wouldn't find himself over-powered by the newly-turned vampire below him, he yelled, "What do you think you are doing?! Bring one of the bodies over here!"

The wizard watched as the young vampire started sniffing like a dog, as the scent of blood wafted in his nose. When the body was close enough, Harry told the others to leave the corpse there and make room.

Deeming them a safe distance away, he shot away from Boromir and joined the others, taking a protective position in front of them, just in case the vampire tried anything.

It wasn't necessary. The vampire's instincts guided the other to the far easier to catch carrion.

After a long time the man stood from his crouched position over the orc. Harry watched as the other vampire tried to wipe the black blood away and spit out what was left in his mouth, looking very disgusted and a little disoriented. The dead man started shivering and rubbing his arms in an effort to warm them. It was a pitiful sight to behold.

He went over to the perplexed being and laid a hand on his broad shoulder in sympathy. "I think you should sit down by the fire, Boromir." He gently guided the stumbling creature towards the fire. "I know this must be very confusing to you. Believe me I know."

Boromir shot him an incredulous look and looked like he wanted to say something, but no sound came forth.

The other vampire smiled in sympathy, explaining, "Don't worry. You haven't lost your voice. The bodies of muggles often have to figure out that they have to use magic in order to speak, since you don't breathe any more." He watched as the warrior's eyes widened, but since he was still in shock the man didn't panic. Harry decided it was probably the best moment to confirm a suspicion the other man probably already had, even if he wasn't conscious of it yet.

"Yes, you are like me now. A vampire. I will not lie to you and say that everything is going to be alright, but I promise to guide you on your way." The other man stared silently into the blue flames probably understanding just enough to know his life been changed completely and definitely not for the better.

Harry remembered how he had found people just like Boromir in his world, while he was hunting the undead.

Covens of vampires sometimes thought it was fun to turn one of their enemies just to watch them kill their own friends and break, before beheading the miserable creature. Even if they managed to escape and were found by friendly people, none of those young vampires survived for long.

Harry and Hermione had failed to keep such poor souls from harming themselves many times, but the green-eyed vampire promised himself that he would save this one. Letting the other think for now he waved the rest, who were still waiting apprehensively, where he left them, over. They came obediently, trusting either him or Boromir. "So are we going to rescue Pippin and Meriadoc now?" Harry asked. It was meant as a rhetoricalquestion, but the others seemed to actually ponder their answers.

"It is easy to say and want to do this, but do you have a plan - any idea how we are supposed to accomplish this? Even though these orcs seemed not to consider us any real challenge and were therefore mostly playing with us, we hardly made it out of this encounter alive. How could we help the hobbits like this? We are not only outnumbered, but also…" Legolas obviously had great trouble saying this, but he finally admitted, "but also outmatched."

Harry smiled hopefully. "Yes, you are right. We have just managed to survive. But we did, didn't we, by _night_? Haven't you noticed yet that I am many times stronger and faster in the darkness than in the light?"

The others looked at him strangely. "How come they are like you? Neither you nor Boromir look anything like orcs, yet you claim that all of you are of the same race. How is it possible that Boromir, who was a man mere hours ago is supposed to be a _vampire _now," it was Gimli, who voiced the questions his three friends must be trying to figure out as well. Boromir in particular.

A little frustrated the dark creature decided there was no way he could avoid this question. "Being a vampire is nothing you are born into. Any creature can become a vampire, it is a curse that is placed on you if you drink the blood of one in the minute of your death."

Sighing Haldir lead them back to the important information he had given them a minute earlier. "So we have an advantage by day. We should use it." Seeing their slightly encouraged expressions the vampire nodded with a confidence that he did not feel in the least. "They are still stronger and probably react a little faster than you, but we should have a fair chance if you use all your fighting skills and I my magic to the best of my abilities." Gimli chuckled a little. "I don't know how far I trust your power, but I trust in your courage! I won't abandon the hobbits either." For the first time since he had left them in Lothlórien Harry saw true smiles blossom on the face of the fellowship, as they voiced their agreement or in Boromir's case just nodded.

Aragorn stood up. "Do you have anything left in your camp, you cannot leave behind?"

Harry and Haldir nodded to the tall man's chagrin.

"All right, while you two head back to your own camp and gather your things, we will prepare for the journey as well. But do hurry the orcs have a head start already," the ranger warned them.

Not wanting to let the beasts escape either Harry grabbed the elf's hand and dragged him away. This time it seemed to take far less time to reach their destination.

As they worked Harry looked to his side. The elf was once more packing his most precious things and would probably have to leave some more of his most prized possessions behind. "You know, Haldir, this has nothing to do with you. You don't need to come," he proposed neutrally, trying not show that he would be deeply disappointed if the other didn't help him and the other four.

Sighing the elf firmly closed one of his pouches. "I cannot leave your side. I already explained why. And it is obvious that I have no right to try to persuade you to desert your friends."

Harry looked down feeling slightly guilty for dragging the other into this, but the elf placed a hand on his shoulder, making him look up at him.

Smiling warmly the blond said, "I would help the hobbits even if I didn't have to. They remind me a little of elf-children sometimes and I could not live with myself if I left them to endure torture and death."

Feeling more at ease, Harry returned the smile with a wide grin of his own.

Since they worked as fast as they could, they were finished quite soon, but when they arrived at the other camp the other four were already waiting anyway.

Haldir placed some of his possessions under the boat, the others were using to shelter the things they left behind, but Harry made no move to add anything. His shrunken belongings easily fit into his sturdy little bag.

Tracking the orcs was a simple task. The beasts seemed to enjoy destroying all greenery in and around their path; the problem was that they were moving incredibly fast and weren't tiring, in contrast to Harry's companions.

Two days were spent running and the dark-haired vampire's respect for his friends grew drastically. Not only did Boromir adjust to the life of a vampire _far_ quicker than he had – he had never adjusted completely – but even Gimli and Aragorn ran fast and tirelessly with little complaints, although Harry knew that their muscles must have been aching horribly and they had to be hungry and thirsty.

Aragorn said that they were slowly catching up to the Uruk-hai, because they had slowed down and started to take breaks. This had surprised everybody, as they had by now been informed that vampires were tireless.

Still slowly but surely signs of weariness could be read in the two mortal's body language. During the afternoon of this day it became apparent that the two needed a break desperately. They were reaching the limits of their endurance fast, as little sleep, drink, food and hope was beginning to take its toll on them.

When they finally reached the top of the small hill, where their immortal companions had been waiting for them to catch up, Gimli and Aragorn all but broke down. A look was passed between the other four that stated that all of them were seriously considering to carry the two, since they were not tired at all and wanted to cover more ground. In the end they silently came to the agreement that it would only serve to hurt the mortals' pride and that a short rest to regain their strength was in order.

It was hard to find though. Despite their fatigue,the dwarf and man were just as restless as the others. Their sleep was fitful, while the other four paced like caged animals. 

Harry didn't dare to ask the others whether they were so uneasy for the same reason as he was, but _he_ had a very unpleasant feeling. Like someone was getting hurt and he was just standing by, letting it happen. Guilt, he identified the feeling with little difficulty.

It was probably just his overactive imagination that was playing tricks on his mind, but he sometimes even heard faint shouts and other sounds of war and at other times caught the metallic scent of blood in a gust of wind. The only thing keeping him from leaving the others to investigate was Legolas, who was softly singing under his breath. It was unsure whether the elf tried to calm his friends or was unaware of his own act due to his own agitation. Harry suspected it was the later.

This was the way the day passed. Slowly the fog that had been hanging thickly over the plains for the past few days cleared, giving them a clear view of the rising sun. The horizon was a deep red and basked everything the eye could reach in scarlet.

The whole company watched the beautiful display together, but Harry's attention wasn't on what was happening in the west. He was looking in another direction and saw something that added to the uneasiness that had taken a hold of him.

A crescent moon hung low in the sky and like everything else had been turned a colour reminiscent of blood.

The wizard remembered what his crazy Divination-professor used to say once, 'A red moon is a very bad omen. It heralds that blood has been spilled during the day.'

Ron and Harry had laughed like always when the old fraud made another speech of chaos and destruction. He wasn't laughing any more; he found himself trembling.

He still remembered the night following the last great battle in vivid clarity. The moon had shown in the colour of blood.

**AN.: Don't forget to review, please!**


	12. Reunion

**Warning:** (This is beginning to really annoy me, but it is almost a tradition by now.) Considering the protagonist is a vampire there _might_ (note the sarcasm, please) be scenes of violence and blood.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 12 – Found**

The bare lands lay in darkness, so Harry could also easily make out the imposing forest, he had followed so long ago. To his discontent they were even heading in its direction. In order to rid himself of the slightly uncomfortable feeling he got when he saw the forest, Harry concentrated on the shimmering peaks of the mountain behind it.

Although the wizard was curious and wanted to find out what the woods and the mountain were called, the wizard kept his questions to himself. A stony silence - the kind of which was usually reserved for funerals - had settled over the group of six and he was unwilling to disturb it.

Everybody seemed tense and ready for anything, as they watched Aragorn take a look around, now and then kneeling down to take a closer look at some random patch of grass or looking off into the distance.

A few minutes ago Aragorn had given them the signal to wait for a moment. It was still quite easy to follow the lumbering, heavy creatures, so Harry wondered why the man needed to halt and inspect the trail up close. The orcs did nothing to cover their tracks. Maybe he wanted to estimate which way the creatures would take next, as it was becoming glaringly obvious that the group hardly gained on their prey. They direly needed a short cut in order to catch the vampires before they reached Isengard.

Finally Aragorn all but threw himself to the ground and seemed to listen to things the ground was telling him. A little amused by the display Harry took a step forward and searched the steadily darkening horizon for signs of their foes. His eyes widened. "Boromir!" he breathed. "Do you see that?!" His hand blindly grabbed for an arm he thought might belong to the other undead, keeping his eyes on the sight so he wouldn't lose it.

Still far away but due to the free landscape quite visible was a vaguely familiar sight. A small speck was heading in their direction with great speed.

"Yes," a deep voice to his right breathed, obviously still awed by his own new abilities. "Riders. They look like men of Rohan. They are heading in our direction and will reach us in at most half an hour if we do not move."

"It would seem they have already taken care of our enemy," Legolas noticed, but Harry frowned taking a closer look. The riders would have had a hard time fending off such a great number of vampires, no matter how big this army used to be. No, this looked more as though they were…

"They are retreating," Aragorn muttered from his position on the ground. While their tall leader stood up and dusted himself off, the short brunette gave him an impressed look. How the other had managed figure this out by lying on the ground was a mystery to the youthful man, who had grown up in the modern world.

"Should we try to try to hide from them? A encounter with these men would certainly cause a delay and they might treat us with suspicion and hostility after this confrontation with the enemy," Haldir said, but then he quickly added, "On the other hand they might be able to give us vital information."

Harry heard Gimli's stifled groan of exasperation. It might have something to do with the fact that the elves had a habit of forcing them to think their plans through. The dwarf seemed to favour a more Griffyndorish approach.

The vampire would have readily agreed with the stout being, if he didn't know that the upcoming fight was likely to prove fatal without a sound strategy.

Letting his gaze wander, while the others contemplated, the wizard recognised a couple of manless horses, fleeing from a certain centre and made the easy conclusion that this was where the orcs were. Squinting – more out of habit than necessity – the vampire could make out smoke, which supported his thesis and suggested that they were camping there as well. Probably to celebrate a rather great victory, Harry mused in sympathy, as his gaze wandered to the spooked, riderless horses that were slowly forming small groups of rather forlorn-looking animals. He wondered how many riders had been lost, because he supposed that there were many horses that had died along with their owner as well.

"We should try to gain their attention and talk to them," Legolas suggested. "We do not intend to confront the Uruks before we gain the advantage of daylight, so what little time would be lost, I rather lose this way than by lingering needlessly."

Gimli shifted from one foot to the other in agitation and objected, "We have no time for chitchat. Let us continue on our way and try to avoid the Horse-lords. I do not like to associate with cowards, who would flee from an enemy invading their land."

"Better to flee when you have no hope for victory, than lose an army in a pointless battle in the wild," Aragorn pointed out. "I think Legolas is right. We may be able to get news from them."

"Or spears…" Haldir muttered, an expression of dislike adorning his face. Harry was not overly surprised. From what he knew the elf had very little if any contact to the other races of Middle Earth. This was bound to produce some prejudices. It probably had to do with the fact that the culture of the riders seemed rather primitive compared to the elves of Lothlórien as well, Harry mused.

Aragorn shook his head, obviously knowing better, but he remained quiet. It seemed as though he thought Haldir was too old to be taught by words alone. Or maybe he thought it was just not his place to do so.

Noticing that the others were looking at him expectantly, Harry realized that the decision now lay with him and Boromir, so he considered which would be the wiser decision. The black-haired vampire did not want to meet the riders. Their last meeting had been everything but pleasant and he feared they would discover his identity. On the other hand Legolas and Aragorn were quite right - the riders might give them valuable information.

Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Harry glanced sideways to see whether Boromir would speak up soon and end the uncomfortable silence. He would just agree with the other male to avoid a stalemate. When he caught the look in the other's red eyes, he realized it was up to him to make a decision after all. Boromir looked very unsure of himself something very uncharacteristic for him; as though he wanted to say something, but kept it to himself, because he was ashamed to admit it.

In a flash of realisation Harry figured out that Boromir didn't want his kinsmen to see him like this. The others didn't seem to be much slower, as every now and then one would open his mouth to speak, what everybody was thinking. The two undead could under no circumstances meet outsiders by night, yet noone spoke up.

In the end the older vampire crossed his arms over his chest and tried to fix an arrogant mask over his features. "Well, make sure to make up your mind _before_ those men arrive. Boromir and I for our part are going to do something useful and spy on the enemy." When a surprised Aragorn looked ready to object, Harry added, "from a respectful distance and with great caution of course."

The others still seemed unconvinced, but the short man ignored them. He placed a comforting hand on the other vampire's shoulder and gently steered him in a direction that was a little off course to make sure they wouldn't meet the riders.

As he broke into a run, he hardly caught the warnings to be cautious, that were thrown after him. Making sure to stay a considerable distance away from the riders, the two undead dashed through the night. The border of the dark forest was steadily coming closer, yet Harry refused to let it fill him with unease. There were other threats to fear - far more real, fanged ones.

The night had progressed greatly when Harry realized that what he had seen in the distance was not a camp, but only the remains of a battle field.

There were only charred remains of a camp and corpses left. Some were those of the shorter more crippled orcs, others belonged to those of the great, black-skinned and far more humanoid undead, but probably the most belonged to men and horses, which had been murdered by brutal force. The sight was almost overwhelming to him and he could hardly keep the images of the war with Voldemort at bay. He swallowed imaginary bile, as he surveyed the place of battle again, noting how many vampires the men had killed; he would have felt highly impressing, if he was preoccupied with nauseous feeling and hunger that were battling each other.

Quite suddenly a startling thought struck him. This gave off the impression that the men had at the very least made the enemy retreat. But if they had won, why should they have left in a panic? No, that didn't make sense…

"Where are the hobbits?"

Confused, Harry snapped his head around to look at Boromir, who instantly resumed making his way towards the destroyed camp. Following the younger vampire, who was now approaching the encampment at a reckless pace, he realized that what had happened to the rest of the orcs should not be his main concern. "Where are the hobbits?" he repeated dumbly and tried to make his legs beat the ground faster, even though they already seemed to hardly touch the ground.

When they had finally arrived in the middle of the massacre, the sky was beginning to lighten, but they hardly noticed. There were just too many bodies. To search for two little hobbits in this mess was like searching for a needle in a haystack, but they were too deep in their despair to fully comprehend this. They only made sure to cut off the heads of the few orcs that still had theirs, as orcs, humans and horses alike were disrespectfully thrown aside.

"They cannot be dead…" It came out sounding like a plea, although Harry had intended to make a statement. He looked over at Boromir, who had sunk to his knees and was staring numbly ahead. Trudging over to the other man, he was finally careful not to disturb anyone's last rest by touching them.

Kneeling by the man's side, the older man gave the other silent comfort, as he wept. Normally Harry would have joined, but he felt too detached. And there still was this tiny voice in him that told him the little ones were just too tough to be killed. It didn't suite them to die on the battle field. So while the other man let himself be blinded by blood-tears, Harry searched the area again.

It was no use. The task just seemed overwhelming. His vision was slowly losing the great focus, it had during the night, as the sun crept over the horizon. Due to the many low-hanging clouds it only turned the sky an ugly grey; just bright enough to cause him to change. Frustrated with his inability to do anything Harry looked at his worn boots.

Hearing the clip-clop of hooves beating in a steady trot brought him back to the present. He whirled around, ready to defend himself if necessary.

Even in his sorrow, he felt a small flicker of amusement, when he took in the picture before him. His friends had finally arrived and had somehow acquired three horses, that were now rebelling against coming any closer. His mood couldn't help but lift momentarily by a small bit as he saw the faces of Haldir and Legolas, trying to calm their respective mounts with soothing words. It was quite clear that the two elves had never encountered such problems before.

Suppressing the instinct to run to the other's aid, the young wizard only winced when Aragorn made the unpleasant acquaintance with the firm ground; his mount had finally succeeded in bucking him off, but Harry knew if he came any nearer, it would only serve to unsaddle the elves and the dwarf, who held onto his elven friend for dear life. Haldir quickly dismounted and checked on the fallen man, but he was already sitting up and only looking embarrassed.

The brunette elf meanwhile tried to regain control for few minutes longer. Maybe to make it easier for the dwarf, who seemed so out of place on this creature that was easily one and a half times as tall as he, to dismount. In the end this too proved futile and he all but jumped off the rebelling horse, taking the dwarf with him. Harry smiled very slightly as he saw how quickly Legolas set Gimli on the ground, obviously trying to preserve both of their dignities. The three horses were gone from sight before long.

With their new helpers the two vampires searched the battle field again, having regained some vigour. This was mainly due to Aragorn's unwavering hope, in spite of what the scenery implied.

They searched and moved bodies all day in hopes of finding the hobbits or something that indicated that they had been there. Twice Boromir intervened before their friends could join the piles of corpses, as a dead body unexpectedly rose again. By the time the sun set, they had come up with nothing.

"We cannot do any more," Gimli said sadly. "I do not want to guess what has befallen them... The orcs might have killed them along the way and left their remains where they were. We might not have seen the two tiny figures with the mad pace we kept up at times."

"_We_ would have seen them, " Legolas meant stubbornly, turning yet another body over in hopes of finding some hint underneath. The dwarf didn't respond angrily as he would have in the past. The brunette was already grieving like most of the group – just in his own way.

"This will be horrible news for Frodo… if he lives to hear them." Harry looked down to see Gimli had quite stealthily come up next to him. "And for the old hobbit in Rivendel." The older one didn't question whom the dwarf was referring to. Actually he wasn't even really listening. "Lord Elrond was against their joining the Fellowship, you know?"

"But Gandalf was not," Legolas shot back from where he was working.

"Just as he decided to come along himself and he died first," Gimli meant bitterly as he heavily sat down on an orc.

Everyone paused in their work to look piercingly at the dwarf. Although everybody would have liked to give him a piece of his mind for talking like this, Haldir spoke up in a deceptively calm voice, "Gandalf did not have the gift of foresight like the Lady, so he could not root his decisions on that. What he chose to do, he did, because he and the people around him felt they needed to."

An uncomfortable silence ensued, until Harry finally proclaimed, "I don't think they are dead!" Apart from their leader the group only gave him pitying looks. It annoyed him and he hissed, "They are _not_ dead. Just because we cannot find them doesn't mean they are dead. Actually it would be more worrisome to find them here, right?!" On a sudden inspiration he added to his bubbling as though he had thought it all along, "What if they managed to flee on their own? Merry is pretty clever and they are small! The _could_ have managed to do it!"

Finally it was Aragorn, who met his gaze and to Harry's surprise, he found agreement there. "I do not think these were all the orcs we have battled," Aragorn said. 

"There are even more strewn about here," Legolas said, kicking an exceptionally ugly one with his foot.

"But not so many of the kind we have battled." He suddenly started smiling, but it was a sad little thing, as though the cause for his happiness might lead to even greater sorrow. "Many orcs have entered the forest over there." He made a motion with hand, towards the tree line. Taking a closer look they all saw the distinctive trail of destruction, orcs usually left behind while making their way through nature.

"Fangorn…" Haldir breathed. "If any of the stories told by my people are true, we will not have to worry about these enemies either."

"But what if they were following somebody?" the other elf asked half-hopeful, half-fearful.

Giving their leader their undivided attention, they pointedly gave him the authority to decide their next course of action. The tall man in turn eyed them all with a critical eye before he finally sighed and told them, "It would be foolish to enter the forest by night. We should remain here, until the sun has risen."

They settled down to rest a certain distance away from the battle field. Since they only had one blanket each, apart from the elves, who seemed to be immune to the cold, everyone was shivering quite badly. It still came as a small surprise, when someone suggested to remedy their uncomfortable situation. "Let us kindle a fire," Gimli proposed. "I do not mind the danger any more."

"It might lead the hobbits to us," Boromir agreed readily. Feeling the cold just as badly as the other vampire, Harry knew that wasn't the only reason the man wanted to build a fire.

He was about to add an argument of his own to make Aragorn see reason, when he noticed the look on the man's and on the elves' faces. Their tall leader's gaze would flit every now and then to the forest as though he was fearful it might hear them talking about fire. "It is dangerous to harm this forest," Aragorn finally explained. "And our path is going to lead us through it tomorrow, so we do not want it as our enemy."

Gimli chuckled slightly, but he soon stopped, when he noticed nobody else joined him. "They are only trees, Aragorn! What could they possibly do to us?" The group looked at the dwarf with looks on their faces that told him to use the wildest part of his imagination, so he quickly amended, "There is no need to _harm_ the dear wood anyway. I will just collect some fallen twigs and branches." With that he set out and picked up all the fallen twigs he could find near the edge of the forest and a short while later he had started a merry little fire that emitted a steady, warm heat.

Boromir, Gimli and Harry felt far better huddling close to the fire, but the vampire noticed, that the attention of the other half of their group was elsewhere.

It took him a moment to realise why. The trees seemed to have crept closer. Although this made the wizard wary, too, he could not help but think the trees appreciated the heat as well. It looked as though they had not come closer to appear threatening, but rather because they suffered just as much from the freezing air as the travellers. It seemed the elves and the human came to the same conclusion as they soon relaxed and became more talkative.

"A long time ago, I asked for the Lady's leave to explore this wild, ancient wood, but she forbid me. She gave me no reason why, but told me I should not venture too deeply if I did not have to," Haldir told them, eyeing the woods wearily.

"Many frightening stories circulate about this forest in my homeland," Boromir informed them with a cautious voice. "I stopped believing them when I reached adulthood, but when even Celeborn warned us of it, they all came back and I have to wonder how much of them is based on fiction and how much on truths."

Throwing a wayward strand of hair over his shoulder, Legolas told them, "Some of our songs say that the Onodrim – or Ents as you would call them – used to live here a long time ago." At their surprised and confused looks, he just added, "This forest is very old, _no_ ancient - even by elven reckoning."

Knowing that they had two tireless watchers, the rest soon lay down on their bedrolls. The two elves and the dwarf were asleep almost immediately and from the equally exhausted Aragorn they only got a muttered, almost slurred warning not to take any living wood for the fire and not to wander too far away. No sooner had he said his last words that his breath evened and he drifted off.

Looking over to the place of battle Harry knew they couldn't waste such an opportunity, so giving the other vampire a prompting look, he wandered over to the closest body of an orc.

Realisation and soon after that disgust settled over Boromir features as he watched Harry take a hold of the beast. The older vampire watched the younger one's face as he sucked the long cold, remaining life force from the heavy, limp body.

When he wasn't thirsty any more, he waved at a body to his right. "Do it. I know it is hard in the beginning and quite unpleasant, but if we continue to live off of our provisions, they won't last long enough."

Seeing reason his fellow dark creature followed his example, although he was hesitant and quite sloppy. As Harry watched, he couldn't help feeling quite unwell himself. It was something quite revolting to see and he made sure to keep that in mind.

When the man sat back and let the body fall back to the ground, he looked dazed and Harry had to help him back to where the others were still sleeping peacefully. Letting him sit close by the fire, he retrieved his bag rummaging through it. "The hammer… photo album… Invisibility Cloak… Firebolt… I must keep in mind to tell the others about those things some time… Two litre bottle of blood…" Muttering to himself, Harry pushed the mentioned objects aside, but he just couldn't find the object he had been hoping to find.

He growled in frustration as he realized that his former friend had not considered potions necessary; a Calming Draught would have been very useful. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to think of a different way to snap the other vampire, who was still staring at his blood-smeared hands in shock, out of it.

In the end the black-haired man took the photo album out of the bag and headed over to Boromir, showing him the pictures of his family and friends. He was surprised how little it hurt to talk about them. He remembered times when it was horrible to think of them, but now he only felt a vague sense of melancholy.

Slowly the emotionless stare became one of wonder as Boromir beheld the moving pictures of people that had died so long ago. Harry could see that it helped him a lot to hear about the nicer times of his life, so when he found pictures of the time when the Marauders were still young, he began making up stories of their pranks. It hurt a little that he knew very few stories of his parents' youth that actually happened.

After a particularly hilarious tale the young-looking man, managed to make the other male break into laughter, which had to be stifled immediately as it caused the others to stir.

In return Boromir started talking quietly of his own life and the fun he had had with his brother when they were still younger and responsibilities had not yet weighed heavily on their shoulders.

The group had been wide awake for a long time, when the sun finally peeked shyly over the horizon and they immediately went to the place the orcs had entered the forest in. Along the way Aragorn even found some evidence that at least one hobbit had indeed been there and used the battle as a diversion for his escape.

The six stood at the forests edge and Harry was curious why they were still hesitating, when the hobbits might be or rather _were_ in danger. He didn't realize he was delaying the inevitable himself, until Legolas took a few strides forward, entering the wood, shortly followed by Haldir and Gimli of all people. When nothing happened to the two the remaining three followed cautiously. The elves' assurance, that the forest was not evil, merely angry, did little to calm anyone's nerves.

Since they were now trying to follow the hobbits' trail rather than that of the orcs, it was becoming harder and slower work for Aragorn, who commented that hobbits left almost as few traces as elves. To their great relief they were lead away from the orcs' obvious path, as the ugly creatures were obviously not nearly as good at reading tracks, as their ranger. Even that the man soon found tracks he didn't understand at all, did little to dampen their spirit. It was now proven that both hobbits had survived and left the orcs far behind. That was all that mattered for now.

Quite suddenly Legolas and Haldir told them to remain silent. Pointing down they whispered to them that there was somebody further down and sure enough Harry's Seeker-eye caught sight of a person with dirty grey garments, a little ahead. Taking out his wand rather than his hammer, he looked at Aragorn in question, but the man had not yet completely evaluated the situation and wasn't ready to give the command to attack.

This left Harry to decide whether to fire a spell at the person not. The old man didn't look up at them nor did he do anything threatening, but the wizard had the strange feeling that something very powerful was approaching.

It was a familiar feeling and it caused him to forego any caution and friendliness, sending a stunner hurtling towards the figure. It ducked, but seeing their friend react aggressively seemed to make up the others' minds somewhat as they very slowly and unwillingly readied themselves for battle. But the arrows were still held firmly in the others' hands to Gimli's and Harry's annoyance.

"I am here to talk to you," the being called up to them. "So please, lords, do put your bow away." Turning his attention to the one that had attacked him, a brief flash of anger caused the elder's eyes to shine. "I would have expected better manners from you, young wizard."

To Harry's surprise the elves and the ranger _did _let their weapons fall from their suddenly limp hands.

He was about to send a curse flying towards the wizard, when the thought left him and he let his arm fall to his side. Looking at the rest of his group for help, he saw that they were fairing no better. They all found themselves awaiting their opponent's arrival placidly.

"It is fortunate that we met," the old man said, coming close enough to touch (or harm) the group if he so wished. His features were hidden underneath the hood of his cloak, which seemed to hardly move at all even as he leant on his staff in a relaxed manner. The same could not be said for the rest of his clothes though and as his cloak shifted Harry caught a small glimpse of pearly white underneath. It made the vampire's blood boil, but could not break whatever spell had been placed on him.

"May we know your name?" Aragorn asked, his voice sounding loud and startling as it broke the earlier silence. "And then what you wish to tell us? We have some important unfinished business."

Harry could hear the smile in the ancient man's voice, as he answered, "I am here to inquire what you plan to do next and what stories you have to tell. Concerning my name: I am disappointed that you have yet to figure it out. But what about your story?"

The company seemed to still have enough sense left to remain silent and not answer the enemy's question. The spell did not give the wizard unlimited power over their wills.

"I see. You think you cannot tell me, but fortunately I already know a great deal," the old man told them to Harry's great chagrin. Still the vampire had to wonder why the other wizard was even bothering to tell them this. He had them at his mercy, why didn't he just quite playing games? "You are following two hobbits and most likely also a few creatures of darkness that have passed through here. They have met someone they did not expect; all of them. And while some went unscathed others did not. Does that appease you? We should not hold such a long discussion standing though. You must be weary. Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" While he suggested this, he went over to a couple of rocks and sat down on the flattest one.

With that the spell that had been placed on them earlier lost its effect and not a second later they all had once more raised their weapons. The wizard's cloak opened giving them a clear view of the radiant white robes, the old man was wearing under it.

"Trumann!" In a swift movement Harry was in front of the powerful wizard, but whatever violence he had had in mind left it just as quickly, because despite his speed the man had thrown back his hood before any harm could be done.

He could hear his friends shout in surprise somewhere in the background, but did not really listen to them. Falling to the moist ground in amazement, his brain finally caught up with his eyes and the truth slowly sunk in. In a shimmering, white robe and with snowy hair, Gandalf stood, his eyes shining.

"I can only repeat myself, young wizard. I am a little disappointed you have not recognised me earlier. As I have come to understand, your sense of smell should be fine enough to give me away immediately, but then we have not know each other for long, have we?" the wizard asked, breaking the shocked silence, amusement tinting his voice.

Harry was so stupefied that he corrected him, "My nose is not made to differentiate between _humans_, but rather differentiate between more and pick up _far_ fainter smells. There is a difference…" the vampire broke off his babble and tried to clear his head, shaking it from side to side. "B- But you attacked us!" he finally yelled accusingly. "You placed a spell on us!"

The wizard looked at him with twinkling eyes. "And _you_ do not defend yourself when attacked, Harry?" The vampire coloured, realizing for the first time that he had attacked unprovoked.

"Sorry," he muttered at last, looking at his feet in shame. "I thought you were Saruman and saw red."

"Gandalf!" came at last the scream of the others and Harry turned around to see the rest of their group running up to them with varying degrees of shock.

"Gandalf," their supposedly dead friend repeated, as though he was searching through his memory for the meaning of a word he had not heard in a very long time. "Ah… Yes, that used to be my name. You may continue calling me that, if you wish to. But now my friends why don't you sit down?" That said the deceivingly weak-looking man took Harry's arm and helped or rather dragged him to the stone next to him.

"But are you wearing white..? We mistook you for Saruman, Mithrandir," the blond elf stated as he sat down gracefully, obviously having overcome his shock faster, since he had not seen the wizard die.

Gandalf looked at Haldir quite startled as though he had only just realized the elf was there. "My, we have another new face with us, it seems. Haldir of Lorien, is it not?" At the Marchwarden's nod, he continued, "In a way I _am_ Saruman. Saruman as he should be. But now do tell me of you. Much has happened since we parted and I have forgotten just as much, I fear."

"What do you wish to know?" Aragorn asked and to Harry's surprise he was sent a strange look. The feeling he had not had in some time suddenly returned; the others were not telling him something.

Gandalf must have seen it as well, since he raised an eyebrow and asked the tall man rhetorically, whether it were not time to finally tell their companion the reason for their journey. "The Ring," he said, "is out of our reach anyway."

A sharp intake of breath from Haldir told the vampire that whatever the others were talking about was something bad.

And his feeling proved to be right. Even though the fellowship very briefly summarized the tale of the One Ring and its master, Harry gained a good understanding of the kind of danger Frodo and Sam were currently in and how much depended on the success of their mission. He shuddered, as he realised that a wizard of Saruman's power was a mere puppet to the entity, he now heard about.

After this they filled Gandalf in on what they had faced, since his fall and Haldir and Harry confessed why they were not on their way to the havens, yet. Gandalf only once interrupted their story-telling. Boromir's turning came as a big shock to the white-clothed wizard and there was sorrow in his eyes as he beheld the changed man. It was obvious that he forced himself not to feel pity for the man, because it would not only injure the proud man, but also insult both vampires in their company. Instead he opted to say the blunt truth, "Not everyone will understand that this did not change you for the worse, but I feel that you have already noticed that there are advantages. This might just be the power to defend your people, you have sought for so long." The undead man merely nodded, an unreadable look on his face.

The wise wizard then changed the topic of their conversation to Frodo and assured them that the chances of his success were better than they might think. Like this their conversation swiftly turned this and that way, until they finally decided to head to Edoras together.

It was strange, but their staying together had not even been an issue to Haldir. All of them were determined to see things to the end, although the blond elf and the vampire had only joined the group shortly ago. They had made fast friends with the others and could not abandon them, knowing they were heading towards even greater danger; after all if whatever powers reigned these lands deemed it necessary to make their Gandalf even more powerful, what peril must lie ahead?

With little ado their journey restarted with yet another aim Harry hardly understood, yet knew was important. The vampire took immediate notice of the change in their group's hierarchy though. Aragorn had with little words returned the leadership to Gandalf and so after the old wizard had picked up his cloak and concealed his formidable appearance under the worn cloth, he mutely guided them out of the forest. This far more reserved behaviour effected theirs as well and none broke the silence, until they had left the forest behind and stood on the endless, grassy plains of Rohan once more.

"Without the aid of horses this will be a long and tiresome journey," Legolas complained.

Gandalf had a mischievous gleam in his eyes, giving Harry a clear hint that he had something up his sleeve. The wizard let the group mull over the depressing thought of having to cross the immense distance to Edoras by foot for a few minutes longer. Then he let forth a clear, loud whistles and Harry could feel a small ounce of magic carry the tone away, presumably _towards_ someone.

A moment later the brunette elf in their group started and angled his head slightly as though he had heard something and tried to pick it up again. "Did you hear that as well, cousin?" Legolas asked his fellow elf and received a short affirmative answer, which caused Aragorn to sink to the ground and listen to what it was whispering to him.

"Hooves…" the ranger told them, his eyes tightly shut, as he listened to the sound.

"It is more than one!" Legolas exclaimed, obviously having espied the creatures. "Hasufel, Coalcoat and my friend Arod and…" Here the elf halted for a moment, as he took in the picture he was seeing. "There is a foreign horse. I have never seen the likes of it before. It is greater, yet more graceful and faster than any horse I have ever seen before."

"And you never will see the likes of him again. This is Shadowfax, the chief of the Mearas, a king of kings one might say," Gandalf said his eyes twinkling brightly in Aragorn's direction.

While the brunette elf and wizard spoke in admiration, the horse had come much closer, leaving the other three quite far behind. Now even Harry could see the white stallion clearly and to his surprise the two had not exaggerated. Gandalf's horse was beautiful to the point it could be mistaken for a unicorn. Its silver coat shown in the sun, as it came galloping to them at an astonishing speed. It showed no fear of the vampires.

Turning his attention to the three others, he saw that although they seemed to be somewhat scared they followed their 'king' obediently. Harry had never seen anything like this and he knew his mouth had dropped slightly, highly impressed by the incredible display of this _horse_'s leadership qualities.

He felt a small but insistent tuck at his sleeve and looking up understood that Boromir wanted to give the others some space. He allowed the other vampire to guide him a short distance away and watched as the rest mounted their horses.

Blinking Harry could hardly believe that these obedient, brave creatures were the same ones that had tried to buck off their riders just yesterday. It all seemed to be because of the new one; this strange, tall creatures that had almost human eyes – undeniably a wizard's familiar. While the younger wizard thought, the aforementioned deceptively frail-looking old man jumped on top off the great horse, not minding that it wore neither saddle nor bridle.

Soon they found themselves running in a line parallel to the riders and although it was very hard to keep up with those on horseback (although it was clear the riders were going rather slowly for the two) he was filled with hope and joy for the outcome of this new adventure. Gandalf and the hobbits were all right.

Everyone was all right.

**AN.: Please don't forget to review. Even the shortest comment matters.**


	13. The Heroes of Rohan

After a full day of running and trying to keep up with the ride

**AN. to all those who noticed Harry could have easily used his broom: **Well, I can only say that I'm sorry. Nobody aside from the Mary Sue is perfect and neither Harry nor I are Nobodies or Mary Sues.

**Warning:** If you are some little runt that is considering doing some nasty with his dad's gun, bugger off. I do not want fanfictiondotnet to be banned or further restricted or me to be turned into Satan, because some politicians search for a scapegoat later on.

Honestly what I just said only stemmed from the fact that what happened was horrible. It just infuriates me when people do not even try to find _real _reasons and solutions; instead they point at the next best thing: some rock music and video games. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of those pseudo answers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

Chapter 13 – The Heroes of Rohan

Gandalf should be more considerate of them, Harry decided as he tried to pull his foot out of the treacherous ground. The marshy floor looked safe enough to walk upon and the riders had an easy time manoeuvring through the swamp, since Gandalf's wise horse seemed to know this land very well, but the vampires had to fight a losing battle of trying to keep up.

A firm hand took hold of his arm and freed him with a strong, determined pull. Giving Boromir a grateful nod, the short man raised his head to see where the others were.

A short distance away they seemed to have found a sort of island of safe ground in the marshes. The horses had been freed to search for food and water for themselves and were galloping away under the leadership of their lord.

Walking over to the group, Harry felt great relief when the isle proved to be firm under him. He tried not to think in greater depth about the fact that the others didn't look like they needed a break – apart from Gimli maybe who was nursing his sore-ridden bones. The black-haired vampire knew they must have come to the conclusion that while the undead did not feel a physical need to rest, their will to keep up was wavering.

Plopping to the ground he took off his sodden and dirty boots and inspected the spots where his feet had been rubbed too harshly in the wrong fashion. In a few places the skin was graced, while it only burned in others and although both was already fading, the minor pain and the view of his abused skin did little to improve his mood.

"We cannot continue like this," Gandalf's frustrated voice broke through his thoughts. Looking up he finally noticed that all eyes were on him and Boromir, but his gaze sought the old man's. "Up ahead the marshes will only grow more treacherous to those who do not know them by heart. The grass will grow taller than Harry himself and make your progress slow and tedious. If the two of you continued this way it would be folly."

Harry's eyes narrowed and crossed his arms, but he kept his tone carefully neutral as he stated, "You want to leave us behind?"

"No, I only wish to advice you to take the long way around this land. It will take longer, but you will arrive safely a few days after we do." The fact that Harry and Boromir would no longer force the group to slow down was left unsaid. The suspicious man wondered bitterly whether Gandalf was actually speaking the truth and wasn't just trying to get rid of them. A mere moment later the short wizard felt guilty for the thought.

"I will of course go with you," the blond elf came over and knelt next to him. He must have made a pitiful sight if Haldir showed this much emotion while an audience was present, so Harry quickly tried to mask his expression with a resolved face.

"No, go with them," he told the elf causing the blond's eyes to roll upward, but before he could start one of his honour-rants, Harry continued determinedly, "They need you more than we and you won't be able to ride if you do not have the guidance of Gandalf's horse. Then _you_ would be the one slowing us down sooner or later. You know me by now. I wouldn't escape, leaving all of you in a moment of danger." Although the elf still looked unsure it was clear he was aware that Harry would rather throw himself head first into danger than flee from it. "Trust me we will meet you in…" Harry coloured in embarrassment looking anywhere but at Haldir. "Where was it again?"

"Edoras," Gimli supplied helpfully, before he started chuckling in his cough-like fashion. While the others also smiled, it looked a little forced. Worry clearly overshadowed their amusement.

"Yes, that's it…" Harry meant trying to act as though it had only just slipped his mind. If Haldir's almost comical attempt to wipe the grimace from his face and readjust his mask of indifference was anything to go by nobody was fooled.

"Boromir, you do know the way, do you not?" asked Legolas, who seemed to be torn between amusement, exasperation and trepidation. The brunette received a curt nod in answer and a look that stated, _"Do you take me for a fool?" _It seemed the question had injured the other vampire's pride quite severely.

Of course it did, Harry acknowledged. They had after all left the lands of elves far behind and entered those of men. Boromir most likely thought he knew them better than Legolas, but the older vampire was quite sure that the elf had every right to question the younger creature's knowledge.

"Well, let us continue on our way," Gandalf said, brushing off some dirt that clung to his cloak. The protesting, grumbling of the dwarf and the choked laughter of his elven friend lifted everyone's mood considerably.

Taking a moment to shake Harry's and Boromir's hand, the splitting group exchanged rather awkward farewells. The older vampire followed Boromir a little unwillingly, as he left the safe ground of the island behind. Hearing the whistle, Harry knew the rest of the company would soon reacquire the comfort of being safely and easily carried through the swamp. The vampire quickly squished a small spark of envy.

Taking an unsteady step after another they made their slow way through the swamp. More than once, they only got the warning of a bubbling, muddy sound, before one of them fell clumsily to the wet ground, getting himself dirty and wet and making the journey even more unpleasant.

When they finally found another island on their own, they couldn't help but take a short rest, because although they did not really need it, they dreaded having to walk the rest of the way.

Sitting on a fallen tree, a rather frustrated Boromir told him, "We cannot have made our way even halfway to solid ground. If we continue like this we will not arrive in Edoras before the war is over."

The other vampire hardly listened to his friend's complains. Deciding to cheer both of them up a little, he opened his bag in order to retrieve one of his last vials of elven blood. His hand stilled as it was about to grab one. His head flushed in both embarrassment and fury with himself, as his dirty fingers instead closed around the miniature version of a broom. Cradling it all but reverently in his hand, he tried to find a way to inform the other of this new development without getting Boromir as angry with him, as the raven-haired man was with himself.

Rather trepidantly he tried to gain the other blood sucker's attention, "Boromir?"

"Yes?" The man looked suspicious, since he wasn't used to Harry's insecure side. He thought the other vampire had spied some horrible foe, if the hand that was inching towards his sword and his distrustfully flitting eyes were anything to go by.

The shorter one remained uncomfortably silent for a while until he build up enough courage to speak, since Boromir was someone who could be very unpleasant when he was angered, "We don't have to walk any more…"

Knowing better than to object, when Harry seemed to talk nonsense, Boromir merely gave him a prompting look and crossed his arms expectantly.

Showing him the tiny broom in his hand he muttered an incantation and it grew, which caused Boromir, who was still getting used to this strange magic, to jump. He merely looked at the broom uncomprehendingly though, not aware of the fact that it could be used for something apart from cleaning one's home.

Steeling his heart, Harry finally admitted, "We can use this to catch up to the others." The younger vampire visibly refrained from looking at his elder as though he was insane, so Harry quickly explained, "This broom isn't used like the ones you know. My kind flies on such… brooms?" Harry faltered slightly, since Boromir had started rubbing his eyes wearily.

It seemed as though he was wondering when his life had been turned into the most ridiculous dream he had ever had. Finally the men just asked rather resignedly, "And just how..? No, I do not think I wish to know the answer to this question. Are you sure your… _broom_ can carry both of us?"

"Of course, it will be a little crowded, but we should both fit on it," Harry said confidently, doing his best to smile and cheer his friend up.

By the man's rather slumped figure, the other vampire could tell he didn't succeed. When Boromir spoke his voice was unusually flat, "Splendid." Somehow Harry doubted that this was what Boromir truly wished to say.

With Harry's gentle commands both managed to climb on and sit more or less comfortably. It seemed the taller man only realized how the broom would bring them to Edoras, when Harry made his Firebolt rise off the ground slowly. Boromir immediately strengthened his hold on the other vampire; in fact it was soon a death grip and the slighter undead could feel bruises forming and healing under the other's grasping fingers. Finally he steadied the broom and commanded the other to loosen his hold. Something the other complied to only reluctantly after Harry admitted that it hurt him a little. "Just do not look down and you will be fine," Harry advised sympathetically, "I won't let you fall."

Trying to sound brave, the taller vampire meant, "It is not falling that I fear. I fear hitting the ground eventually."

Sadly Harry's reply came automatically from the many times he had such talks with new Quidditch players, "Do not worry you wouldn't die if you did fall from this height, just break a few bones." In the wizarding world that _is_ not really a problem, as they can be fixed in seconds, but as the raven-haired vampire looked over his shoulder he could see that Boromir had turned green, so he amended hastily, "But as I said I won't let you fall." His question was only answered by a marginally tightened grip on his waist.

Slowly (by his standards) he flew off in the direction, Boromir told him to – he didn't want to risk the other getting sick and they would be faster than the horses anyway. If they kept this pace up, they would reach the city a short while after their friends did.

It was not too long after crossing the border of Rohan that Harry saw it. He saw a couple of buildings in the distance and the Seeker slowed, shielding his eyes. "Strange," Harry muttered and he felt an uncomfortable lump form in the pit of his stomach. Something didn't feel right. "Boromir, would you mind if we went investigating?"

Although Harry could feel the other vampire shake his head irritatedly, he answered, "Yes, let us fly over there." The black-haired man could have sworn he heard the other mutter something about the elf being right after all.

"Please hold on tightly, I'm going to fly higher and faster," he had hardly warned the warrior, before he sped up, flying slightly higher into the skies, ignoring the pain the other's strong hands caused.

As they swiftly approached the houses, he could make out the situation. Several tiny dots were running from the buildings that seemed to be attacked by a surprisingly small number of dots. Some people seemed to still be trying to defend the village, but even from this height, Harry could tell that only very few were left and if those were defeated the enemies would start chasing the survivors.

Narrowing his eyes and leaning slightly down to ready himself for a fast dive, Harry asked, "Are you ready to kill some orcs?" He looked over his shoulder when he didn't receive an immediate answer. The man looked quite frozen. "Well?"

A shaky grin formed on the man's face, as he only questioned in return, "Can I fight on solid ground?"

The two readied their weapons and checked themselves over. Finally a smirk formed on Harry's face as he leant forward sharply, catching the other vampire off guard and almost losing him.

Two cries echoed around the battle field and while one was one of joy and the other one of pure terror both were mistaken for fearsome battle cries that caused everyone to stop fighting for a moment. Everyone was looking around widely, trying to find out where and whose opponents they were. Before anyone got an answer the first two of the enemies were cut down by the two newcomers that suddenly appeared in the middle of the battlefield.

While Boromir already hacked away at anything within reach, Harry used his enemies' surprise to assess the situation. There was a handful of orcs that looked like those of Isengart, two of those were already down, but the majority of his foes were humans. They looked a little like celts or even prehistorical muggles with a flat forehead, a bulge on their brow and a bulky, but relatively short stature. From the way they could keep up with Boromir Harry could tell that although they lacked grace, most of them were even stronger than their appearance suggested and Harry's instincts told him to be careful.

Closing his hands around his hammer firmly, the vampire swung it somewhat awkwardly, as he was slightly unused to handling the weapon by day.

The battle finally restarted, but with even greater ferocity. Harry had never known anything like this even in his mines.

The battle flooded his mind with a tidal wave of information. He smelt the perspiration of the exhausted men, the unclean orcs, but most of all blood. The cries of the injured and dying was not quite drowned by the metallic clashing of blood-smeared weapons of the most gruesome kinds. Almost blinded by the sun that was reflected in a dozen weapons, the vampire received several vicious wounds when the battle had hardly begun. His world became one of wet heat and pain.

Finally his senses focused. He only saw the weapons intend on putting an end to his existence, heard the hiss of the sword that was about to be driven into his back and now and then allowed the smell of blood to strengthen his viciousness. His body started to work on its own, until he was only a machine with one function: killing.

Yet a small part of his mind was still working, driven by his survival instinct. It was impossible to tell who was winning, so whenever he got the chance he tried to find an escape route in case of emergency. For a moment he could see past the bony limps of a rather ill-looking man and caught sight of the fleeing people again. Although their number was even smaller now, the enemies didn't follow them any more. Instead the evil ranks seemed to focus their attention mainly on Boromir who was cutting through their ranks like the incarnation of death itself.

Receiving a shallow cut on his arm, Harry whirled around to face yet another of those strange uncivilised men who seemed to know neither fear nor compassion. A cry more of surprise than anything else escaped Harry's lips, as something was driven through his left knee. At first he even blocked another blow aimed at his head, but then his body registered the agony shooting through his leg. Suddenly someone yanked the sword out of his joint and the vampire crumbled to the ground helplessly. Harry's vision turned black for but a moment, but due to his blood loss, it was enough time for the beast within him to gain control.

Red eyes snapped open to greet the bright day. It could feel the other vampires back away slowly, obviously knowing what they had set free. Only one was foolish enough to try ending the problem before it put an end to their meaningless existence. Not registering the pain it was in, the crazed, red-eyed creature rolled out of the way of the axe that would have otherwise beheaded him. Smirking he balanced precariously on one leg and easily dodged out of the way of some kind of club.

Bending his good leg he strained his muscles and shot himself at one of the men. The mortal struggled for a while, until one of its comrades finally decided to intervene and dumbly tried to strike the vampire, who easily avoided the blow by letting go of the man. Chuckling from his position on the ground the vampire spent a second listening to his foe's surprised shout as he was killed by his ally.

Using the stunned atmosphere to his advantage, the oldest vampire took the long axe from the man closest to him. Using his superior strength he hardly noticed the man's resistance. Twirling his new weapon in a wide arc around himself the vampire managed to gain some space. Ecstatically he cut his prey and rivals down like a farmer would ripe corn, watching with glee as the blood rained down.

It was almost disappointing as his rivals fled, leaving the wounded, moaning mortals and their unconscious clan members to him. He refrained from chasing after them though.

Licking his lips he looked at the four mortals still standing but as he started to make his way towards them eyeing them hungrily, his young second blocked his way. Growling in warning he made it clear that he had first picks on the still strongly pumping blood, but the newly-turned didn't take the hint.

After a few more moments of trying to stare the other down, he finally had had enough. Baring his fangs he attacked the other vampire throwing him to the ground and trying to bite his neck.

Suddenly there was something bloody shoved in his face and he couldn't help but be convinced to instead take the cooling blood of one of the corpses. He allowed the other vampire to crawl out from under him. When he tried to come near to the living prey though, the red-eyes monster fixed the younger cursed one with a stare that showed him clearly to stay away from them, but keep them from getting away.

Moaning Harry realised that he was drinking human blood and quickly recoiled, wiping his mouth. Disgusted by his own acts the vampire wiped his hands, that were stained not only with sticky black but also slick red blood, off on his equally dirty shirt.

What had transpired, returned to him slowly and he looked around. Boromir and the remaining warriors of this town who mostly consisted of old men bearing forks and shovels as weapons were staring at him attentively. They relaxed slightly, when they noticed he wasn't acting like some rabid animal any more. In the distance he could see the other people of the small town returning cautiously.

The men seemed to be very unsure whether he was friend or foe and kept their make-shift weapons ready in their hands. Some seemed to be frozen with fear, but their eyes kept flitting to Boromir, who had probably tried to calm them a little, while he was not in his right mind.

"Sorry, that you had to witness this," Harry apologised, noticing how the men winced slightly as he spoke. It seemed they had somehow not expected him to speak, especially not in this manner. Strangely their reaction encouraged him a little, so he continued to explain, "My name is Harry. Please believe me, I am not your enemy."

It was then Boromir decided to speak, "He is right. You must trust us right now, because if you do not, this battle will not remain won for long. Some of the orcs that fought in this battle…"

The young vampire futilely searched for the right words for a moment, so Harry quickly offered, "Carried a certain disease."

Giving the older one a look, Boromir unwillingly agreed, "Yes, some carried an illness. We need to behead them as soon as possible." The men looked very strangely at the shield-bearer and Harry almost groaned.

When the town people continued to look largely unconvinced, Harry finally had an idea. "And burn them!" Now their heads turned to him. This was obviously something they could comprehend. Thank goodness the black-haired immortal had always thought the middle ages were quite interesting or he wouldn't have remembered how blood-thirsty these people could be.

Seeing their growing agreement with their course of action, his friend added colour to their story, using his most passionate voice, "Yes, first we need to behead them quickly, as they would have done with our bodies to make our passing from this world difficult and then we will kindle a fire to banish their tainted remains from these lands." This was met with loud approval and the men set to work quickly, so the orcs 'wouldn't find eternal rest'. Harry wondered how they would react if he told them, they were ensuring the opposite.

They didn't have to do a lot, since most of the dead were mutilated beyond awakening anyway. When the women and children returned, Boromir gave the females the job of finding enough wood and Harry made sure the children saw as little of the massacre as possible. He told one of those old men, who really shouldn't be working and should have fought even less, to take them somewhere and tell them stories. The act earned him some strange looks, but after a moment the women nodded quite approvingly, while they started to turn chairs, tables and anything else they found into fire wood. It was a few hours into their work that one of the men finally found Harry's hammer which had been lost in the course of the fight and covered under a pile of bodies.

It was beginning to get dark, when they finally closed the last grave. The pyres were burning brightly in the background and Harry checked the graves to make sure if one of the dead villagers had been given blood, they wouldn't have such a hard time coming out. He had mixed feelings about this, but he wouldn't let an innocent have to suffer the fate of being eternally imprisoned underground. Actually it was Boromir and the elders of the village who had made the thought enter his mind, as they insisted on shallow graves, since they had to take refuge in the 'Hornburg' quickly.

They were sure that those were only the advance party and the host would soon swarm the plains like a great shadow. It made Harry a little sad to think this battle they won through lots of spilled blood, wouldn't make much of a difference in the long run.

Boxes and sacks with the most important things were packed hurriedly, but the oldest still complained they took too much of everything; most of all time. As the horses, which had been recaptured by the young women and boys, were put in front of the laden carts, Harry and Boromir excused themselves and walked some distance away, so the villagers wouldn't see how their horses reacted to them.

According to the later of the two the people of this land would most likely agree with whatever their horses thought of them.

The people were moving slowly; too slowly for Harry's taste, but he was confident the notice-me-not charms, which he placed on all the carts would keep the people relatively safe.

When Harry saw the first humanoid shapes he elbowed Boromir sharply, who hissed in reply until he saw them too. It turned out that they weren't orcs or wild men though, as they came closer they turned out to be many other men, women and children from the surrounding villages. All were heading to this sanctuary called Helm's Deep.

More and more refuges joined them. Some had caught wind of the threat before it could reach them, others had been able to flee, because only the wild men attacked, but many hadn't been that lucky. They sometimes picked up wounded people who were the sole survivors of settlements of thirty.

They passed burning granges with no survivors at all.

After a while Harry gave up trying to disguise their party as it was starting to look like they were leading a considerable part of the population of Rohan. Instead he started asking his wand to point him to the nearest safe place. Of course it didn't always help, since safety was sometimes off course or even where they had just come from, but it gave them some hints when they should hide.

Once Boromir and Harry convinced all people to hide in some ruins. Just in time, since a moment after the last horse was convinced to disappear behind the wall of a broken building and not make a sound, a frightening flock of riders passed by.

The riders were orcs and looked like those carrying the curse, but what really caught his attention were their mounts, because they weren't horses at all. They looked like over-grown mutated wolves, a lot like the picture people have of the 'big, bad wolf' in the faerie tales. In contrast to their counter parts from earth their beauty was at most one that stemmed from their sheer size and muscles, since their coat was matted and dirty and their eyes held no intelligence.

After this incident the people stopped looking at Harry in this odd mixture of fear and respect. He had become a valued advisor to their leaders and been readily accepted after that. Strangely enough once their lords cast off their fear their horses lost some of theirs as well. Not that they allowed the men too close, but they definitely calmed slightly, like sheep accepting the necessity and use of a guard dog. They kept their distance, but didn't get mad when one came too close. Usually they merely jumped slightly or made a few leaps away.

It was a long march through the dangerous plains, but finally the white peaks of some high mountains could be seen. Some of the older men pointed to a couple of barren and steep hills that would be hard to cross. From the stories the oldest told the youngest ones Harry learned that those were called Helm's Dike and they were the first difficulty aggressors had to pass, if they tried to attack the Hornburg. Anyone climbing over them would be slowed and easily spotted.

Almost covered by them the wizard saw the great fortress he heard so much about from the men and the children who were excited despite the situation. Harry couldn't really blame them, he himself felt himself drawn into the story of Helm Hammerhand, which was told all around, as they walked up the long causeway to their sanctuary itself.

As a young boy pointed upwards excitedly, babbling something in Rohirric, every other child and a few adults turned their heads upward to see it as well. There was a tall, imposing tower and the horn which used to call fear into the hearts of the Dunlendings, causing Harry to grin slightly. It was just like in the story. Hopefully there would be kids to hear of this one as well.

As the gates opened and they went through, guards eyed them suspiciously and most all but scurried away. Harry on the other hand hardly noticed the slightly hostile gazes, as he cherished every moment. The whole place reeked strongly of horses and excrements. It was dirty and had an atmosphere of decay over it, but the vampire still felt like coming home. Being in a human settlement after so long was a sweet experience of almost surreal quality.

The walls were _so_ thick. This wasn't like the abandoned citadels the muggles made money with by offering tourists to buy souvenirs there. He would never have thought that a muggle building could make him feel the same way as Hogwarts, but what this place lacked in magic, it made up with sheer strength. He couldn't imagine how anything could ever accomplish to conquer this place and as the tall walls closed in on most, Harry started to feel safe.

This wasn't the only aspect of interest though. For the first time he realised and appreciated the fact that he had the chance to in a way live history. This was like walking through a living and breathing history book.

The whole keep was filled with the neighing and pawing of horses. Every other door seemed to lead into a stable. It seemed there were so many horses that they actually sorted them into categories. One in particular caught his attention since most of his party led theirs into it. It seemed to be intended to solely hold strong, big farm animals.

Soon only the few leaders of the bigger towns were still with them and continued leading them deeper into the fortress. Frowning Harry became aware of a sharp, biting smell and after a while he had to hold his nose closed with his hand. A reddish glow, smoke and a lot of noise caught his attention. Slightly alarmed the vampire looked inside a building from which all this and a blistering heat emanated. He was greeted with the interesting sight of a smithy. He could catch a glimpse of the three different parts – one for making armour, another for weapons and the biggest one which fit horseshoes to some rather magnificent creatures. A moment later a grumbling Boromir grabbed him by the arm and pulled him after him.

The older vampire knew he was acting like a child, but right now he _did _feel as though time had been turned back to his first visit to Diagon Alley.

Only the half-hissed reminder of Boromir kept Harry from resisting the impatient other, "The others might already have arrived along with the king of Rohan and we should talk to someone of importance here, since we have valuable information for them." Seeing the disappointed glance Harry sent the smithy, although he had tried to hide it, the other vampire added, "We can take a look around later on." Picking at the older undead's clothes thoughtfully, he said, "You do need to visit the armoury anyway. I hope they have not yet given every half-decent piece of armour into the hands of peasants, yet."

They made their way through the streets that were becoming increasingly crowded with people running to and fro, carrying various things that seemed to be desperately needed elsewhere. The leaders hadn't gone too far ahead without them. Waiting at the base of a short flight of steps, they had rather amused expressions on their faces, which had until now mostly showed worry.

As they went farther up, Harry's hair was ruffled by a strong, icy wind, so he wasn't overly surprised, when he found that he had reached the top of this level. Going over to the balustrade, he looked over the lands and saw that the steady stream of survivors was slowly dwindling. He didn't know whether it was his frazzled nerves, but as he looked ahead he felt a cold dread. He turned away quickly and risked only a short, curious glance down the steps that led to a low level. Down there was massive wall formed by rocks. It protected the many soldiers that were camping behind it. A cough drew his attention and Harry blushed when he realised he had been side-tracked yet gain.

Following the men, who shot him looks caught between annoyance and amusement, the black-haired men wondered what the human cities of this world were like and whether they were as different from each other as those on earth. Probably - after all he _had _fought Dunlendings a few days ago. Those definitely weren't as far as these people and his friends seemed even farther ahead in their development if he wasn't quite mistaken. Then again…

Running right into the dirty, hard cloak of his friend, Harry stumbled back a step. Boromir turned around raising a stern eyebrow, which the other vampire merely answered with a short, "Sorry." The taller one rolled his eyes.

Looking around the other to see why they had stopped, he saw that some soldiers were barring their way to the door behind them. The two started talking to them imperiously in the foreign, rough language of Rohan and it seemed they were speaking with the two vampires and not their guides. Confused Harry and Boromir looked at each other, wondering whether it would be wise to let the men know they didn't understand a word.

"Who do you think you are?!" one of the old men yelled at the pompous soldiers. "Do you not see they are strangers? Why do you not speak Common, you fools? Is that a way to treat friends of Rohan that have helped save many of our people?" Harry looked at his feet a little embarrassed and coloured. Three or five more of the people they had been travelling with appeared. They began to crowd around them and speak urgently and furiously with the guards, who were having a rather hard time trying to decide how to react. After all how often could one of those mighty, tall and well-armed warriors possibly meet a group of ragged refugees that had the nerve to argue with them?

Suddenly the doors were opened on their own causing the guards to jump slightly and turn around. Everyone stared at the irritable face that appeared between the slightly parted doors. It was the pale and spongy kind of face you associate with people who got too little fresh air and light. Adding the self-important countenance and the immortal was sure he was dealing with a character similar to Percy. Considering the time period and the person they wanted to talk to he guessed this was some kind of advisor.

"We have information for the king," Harry informed in a voice, that had been practiced in an untold amount of conversations with incompetent officials the ministry had placed in his way. It was strong, self-assured and just the right amount condescending. "In return we ask for a certain piece of knowledge ourself."

Looking down his nose at the short 'youth', the fool sneered. "The king has to organise everything for the coming battle. He has no time to talk with foreign," here he gave their travel-worn clothes a pointed look, "beggars."

Smiling sweetly Harry grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and with little effort pulled him down to his level, speaking very slowly - dangerously, "That is not for you to decide, idiot. Get out of my way or you will regret the day you decided to leave the fighting to learn to read instead of handling a sword."

The man shuddered and unsuccessfully tried to free himself from the deceivingly frail-looking boy, babbling, "How… How do you know that?"

Rolling his eyes and finally letting the man go, he muttered, "It's not like that was hard to guess." Giving the stock-still book-worm another piercing look of impatience, he prompted, "Well, are you going to let us in or not? And by the way I believe they," Harry nodded at the leaders of the refugees, "need to tell you how many more people have arrived to seek shelter here."

For a moment everyone just stared at him in astonishment. Then it was broken and the spongy-faced man rightened his robes and turned to the leaders, his countenance only slightly less self-assured than before. The guards stepped out of the way, while the crowd broke up.

Harry and Boromir bid their acquaintances, who were keeping the idiot busy with many numbers and facts, brief goodbyes. As the former beacon of the light-side walked past the two guards a hand laid itself on his shoulder and he almost expected to once more have to trouble himself with the two other fools, but the two just winked at him and gave him meaningful looks as they discretely pointed at the advisors back. It seemed the two had only been following orders and already had had some hard times with the insufferable guy. A moment later they closed the door, so their superior wouldn't see how much they enjoyed that someone had taken him down a peg.

The hall was not too big, shadowy and seemed to be carved right out of the face of the mountain itself. On either side torches hung that gave the room a pleasant mild light; at least for a vampire. Others might have called it a gloomy athmosphere.

In the middle was a big table, that was right now covered almost completely with all kinds of papers. Around it stood many men of rather widely varying sizes. Some were bent over the papers, others were discussing things rather loudly.

In the middle sat an old man with white, but thick hair and a frame that was still strong, straight and tall. Seemingly the calm pole of everything, he looked as though he was listening to everyone at once, yet was not partaking in any discussion.

The king of Rohan; there was no mistaking it. His eyes were a fierce, flashing blue that seemed to look right through the vampire. Harry gulped, as he was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. He knew this men from somewhere. But there seemed to be no real recognition in that gaze and for that the undead was grateful. The king's eyes swivelled to Boromir and became gentler as they saw the man. "It is a surprising but welcome sight to see a man of Gondor in these halls."

The other people at the table looked up sharply in astonishment and finally saw the new-comers. Not that Harry had recognised them any sooner. A part of them was a very familiar group, but the vampire had to wonder whether they were the _same_.

Harry stared unashamedly at his companions. No longer were they travel-worn men that could easily be mistaken for beggars. What stood before them were proud heroes dressed in what could only be the finest armour Rohan had to offer. They were covered from head to toe in gleaming steel and now had small round shields at their hips as well as their old weapons. Even Gimli seemed to have been turned into a different, more imposing person, although he had only acquired a new helmet and the smallest shield Harry had ever seen before. The dwarf's attire had been tended to and was now in pristine condition.

Harry finally realised what should have been starkly obvious. He wasn't dealing with normal warriors of low rank. His friends were definitely aristocrats and if the black-haired wizard remembered everything correctly from his history lessons, it wouldn't be looked too kindly upon if they continued treating him the way they used to - or even dealt with the likes of him at all; a person with no heritage or history to show off.

Despite his dark musings the vampire couldn't help but smile as he saw that Haldir seemed to try moving his shoulder in a rather peculiar fashion without it being noticed. The elf was itching under the foreign, men-made armour. Now that he looked closely he could see that Legolas was moving the shield about on his hip, since it had the habit of covering his beloved knife or jarring against his even more treasured bow. Meanwhile Aragorn was in his own world, wearing a melancholic expression and staring off into space, while he fingered the small white horse on the green background on his chest.

The small smile turned into a grin. High society or not his friends were still the same, which was proven a moment later when Aragorn asked the king whether they could have a private reunion, before they introduced them to him.

Who had ever heard of a king having to wait? If the look on the monarch's face was anything to go by he thought the same, but none of the friends really cared.

**AN.: Please do review if you are interested in how the group is going to react to finding out the two vampires 'forgot' that they were supposed to meet each other in Edoras.**


	14. Before the Storm

**Warning: **If Chucky scared you, bugger off.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 14 – Before the Storm**

Leaving the king to organise the fortress' defences by himself, they entered an adjoining room, which was a small study full of books and parchments.

Ignoring the others for the moment, Harry inspected the tiny handwriting on a scroll that had been all but stuffed into a holder. Unsurprisingly the spindly swirls didn't tell him much, but they looked rather beautiful and the vampire made a mental note to ask someone to teach him how to read at least one of their languages once they found themselves in more peaceful times.

A cough startled him so much that he whirled around sharply. He furrowed his brow at the sight that greeted him. Aragorn and Haldir were standing in front of him, giving him looks that looked very short of furious. Gimli meanwhile picked at some of the more ancient looking texts, but the toothy grin on his face gave away that he was paying attention to what was going on and understood it a great deal better. Their brunette elf just leant against the door with closed eyes and a serene smile on his face, which might have looked innocent if the black-haired man hadn't known the other creature quite well by now.

Looking to his right he exchanged questioning glances with the other vampire, who already seemed to be quite intimidated – Harry who had gotten worse simply crossed his arms over his chest and straightened himself to his full height.

"S_o_?" Harry said, stretching the vowel to a great length, trying to bait the others into action, so they would move the situation onward.

His stern and cold mask firmly in place the blond elf came forward and bore down on him from his rather impressive height.

Smiling a little mockingly at the elf, despite the nervousness creeping into his stomach, Harry tried to get to the point of their anger, as there seemed to be quite a lot of it, especially in the grey eyes of the person in front of him, which were darkened by emotion.

"What were you thinking?" the elf finally asked in a deceivingly calm voice.

"Huh?" Blinking, Harry tried to get what the other meant, but couldn't make sense of his words.

"I believe I asked you a question," the elf repeated this time in the other vampire's direction. "_What_ were you two thinking?"

It obviously clicked in the other vampire's head, because he started defending himself, "It was not our intention to only join you here. It merely came to pass. Our ways crossed those of a group of refugees consisting mostly of young children and women. We could not leave them to fend for themselves." It finally clicked in Harry's head as well. They had been supposed to meet elsewhere. Of course the blond must have thought he had fled and thereby turned him into fool who would be unable to ever look his Lord and more importantly his Lady in the eyes again.

"And Harry, a mighty magician, could not have notified us somehow? " Haldir asked sharply, piercing the vampire with his steely gaze.

Gulping somewhat nervously, but unwilling to let the blame be shoved on him, the wizard hissed, "I'm sorry, no. I don't know a spell that could do that and owls don't trust me any more."

With an expression like an executioner, the blond opened his mouth to snarl in a voice that seemed unlike his own and which had lost all of its lilting accent, "What about the Patronus? You told me of that Charm yourself and how it can not only banish creatures of darkness, but also carry messages."

Biting his lip the black-haired wizard felt blood rise to his cheeks. To heighten his embarrassment, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas and even Boromir who was really in no position to do so, grinned broadly in amusement. He sent them heated looks, before he retorted in the blond's direction, "Well, there were more important things to think about than you. We had to-" His friend's expression cut Harry off. Of course he knew that these were the wrong words to choose, but they were true. They _had_ had other things on their minds than their friends waiting in Edoras.

All but knocking the other elf away Haldir stormed out of the room, leaving a shocked and slightly guilty Harry behind. Although he felt the immediate need to go after his friend and apologise, he was held back by his pride and the persistent knowledge that what happened wasn't his fault. In the end the other elf jogged after the blond, sending the vampire a mild look that told him to let the other calm down.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder Harry looked up into Aragorn's eyes. In a rather gentle and neutral tone, the ranger wanted to know, "Are you aware of the reason why Haldir was so angry with you for staying away?"

Turning towards the book shelves and sifting through the tombs that were written in incomprehensible swirls, the wizard said sneering slightly, "Yes and don't act as if you weren't angry as well."

A chuckle met his answer, but when he spoke again their leader's voice was stern, "I lost all anger when you explained to me what happened, but the reason for Haldir's ire is more deep rooted than mine. Now do tell me, where do you think your friend's anger hails from?"

"Because if he lost me, he'd lose his '_honour_'." Harry had honestly done his best not to sound bitter, but had failed quite miserably.

A throaty chortle drew his attention to the dwarf who had given up the pretence of browsing the books in the room. Gimli wagged a finger correcting him in a manner quite similar to Hermione, when she dealt with the little first-years, "You worried him."

The short undead blinked and exchanged a look with Boromir, who had sat down on a small desk. As though to test the concept with his mouth he repeated the word, "_Worried_?"

Nodding Aragorn elaborated, "We know you two are strong and can look after yourselves, but on our way here we were ambushed by hordes of undead. Since you didn't make it to Edoras, we assumed the worst..."

Nodding sagely the dwarf left the room, probably to find either the elves and offer his best friend assistance or something to eat and drink.

Looking at the other vampire for support, he found only some kind of mild shame in his eyes. Sadly Harry knew that Boromir was even prouder than he and would rather bite his tongue off than ask for forgiveness for something he had little control over. So it was once again the older vampire who had to do the dirty work for both of them, "Sorry, we didn't mean to make you worry…"

Grinning Aragorn, nodded in approval. "Good, why not tell Haldir that and make amends before the battle begins? Who knows whether there will be an '_after_'…"

Uncomfortably Harry made his way to the door, but before he reached it, he finally realised someone was missing. "Where is Gandalf?" He had not been with them for too long, so the vampire thought he couldn't be blamed for not noticing his absence until now.

Shrugging their leader opened the door for him and said, "He left on some errand, but promised to be back in time."

They left Boromir, who had found something interesting in the tombs, behind in the room.

"Do not forget to inform the King of everything that happened," the older wizard reminded the other, who nodded distractedly as he read. Probably some sort of strategy he would also tell the King about.

"Aragorn?" Harry asked as they crossed the hall, ignoring the glowering king and his advisers at the table. The tall warrior turned his attention to him, after giving the king of Rohan a signal that it would take a little longer. The monarch surprisingly nodded understandingly, as he had seen the elf storm from the room furiously. "Didn't you say you were attacked by a host of vampires?"

"Yes, they were riding on wargs. If you ever meet such creatures I suggest keeping your distance. Some of them seemed to carry the curse as well, but I cannot be sure," Aragorn told him gravely.

"You were attacked by a bunch of riding vampires and survived?!" Harry asked incredulously, his respect of these muggles rising to new heights.

"Yes," his friend said, but then added a little sadly, "although barely."

Cocking his head to the side, the vampire wondered, "How?"

"We used our knowledge of them to our advantage," the mortal explained winking at him. "To keep them from ambushing us by night we lit so many fires we turned the night into day. When Legolas finally caught sight of them it was day and we did not do foolish heroics, but rather valued our lives and fled. Thankfully Rohan is known to breed the best mounts in Middle Earth, so our horses were faster than most of their mounts. Especially when they succumbed to panic and ran for their lives." In a sombre tone he admitted, "We lost many lives and horses to them, their arrows and exhaustion, but most of us survived."

They had left the building and were now able to look into the distance, where undead were roaming the land freely. Almost afraid of the answer, Harry asked, "Do you think it will stay that way?"

"Who can ever say how a war will end?" the other retorted, obviously trying to put Harry off with wise words, but the vampire would have none of it. With a sharp glare, the vampire made his friend say what he really thought, "Many more will die in the coming battles."

Once again he looked into the distance and wondered whether somewhere beyond the horizon an army of the kind he had met in Moria was forming; only stronger, faster and more intelligent. "How many vampires do you think there are and where have they come from? Who turned them?"

"I'm beginning to fear that more than half of Saruman's great army consists of them," Aragorn answered. "Vampires made of superior orcs," the ranger shook his head at the dark prospect, but a smile crossed his features, even though it wasn't really cheerful. "I doubt Saruman would have given up such an advantage though. If we survive his army…" When Harry's face brightened a little too much, his leader clarified, "I _hope_ he would not. There is a chance he might have been forced to share this 'gift', but he would do everything in his power to make this remain a privilege of his own troops."

As he thought about this Harry realised that they did change Boromir and that it was an instinct to turn strong victims and create a greater coven. Keeping this to himself, lest he ultimately crushed the ranger's already low spirit, the vampire pointed out, "You didn't answer my second question."

Sighing, since he had been caught, Aragorn looked at him apologetically, as he simply informed, "There have been no vampires in Middle Earth, before you arrived, Harry."

Nodding a little bitterly the shorter one watched his friend go, probably returning to the king to help him prepare for battle. Deep in thought the vampire started to search for his lost elven friend, as he didn't want to go into battle with some unfinished business.

His first stop was the smithy, which he had to admit wasn't really because he expected to find his friend there. He asked the blacksmiths to return his hammer to top condition. Their expressions when they saw the massive weapon, the almost sickly-looking boy wielded were something Harry would cherish for a long time.

As he waited for them to finish their work a younger apprentice also tried to find some armour that would fit him, but was having a rather hard time. In the end Harry received armour that looked quite stupid on him, as it was far too big and long. Still it would protect him better than mere cloth.

Leaving the smithy Harry then checked the multiple stables, finally finding some familiar dark tresses among the many braided, blond heads in a stable that held rather fine-looking big horses; horses of war.

Unable to enter, since it would cause the animals to panic, Harry tried to gain the elf's attention, but Legolas was sitting on the door to a box and seemed to be too deeply immersed in conversation with whoever was in the box to notice him. Trying to rake a hand through his hair in frustration, Harry's finger's met the unyielding metal of his helmet.

Grabbing a passing boy by the arm, he told him to ask the elves to come out and meet him. The young boy scurried off and was soon seen talking to an amused Legolas, who was a moment later joined by another familiar person, who easily jumped over the door. When the little one stopped talking the two turned to Harry. Smiling he waved at them slightly, very unsure of himself.

If his expression was anything to go by, Haldir was still mad and would probably not have come over, if the brunette didn't insist. In the end Harry and the blond were standing in the entrance of the stables alone, after their friend had left them under the pretence of finding Gimli and making sure he didn't get drunk.

Suddenly the words he had meant to say were stuck, since his pride once again spoke up and told him it wasn't his fault the elf didn't trust him to look after himself.

A cough drew his attention and Haldir asked with a rather strange voice, "Where did you get that armour?"

Looking down at himself, Harry blushed, remembering how rediculous he looked in his far too long armour.

Shaking his head the elf picked at the chain mail and inspected it critically. "At least it is well-made for armour forged by men," the blond muttered.

Smiling the vampire shook his head. His friend took way too much pride in his elven heritage.

Raising a pale eyebrow so it disappeared in the shadows thrown by his silvery helmet, the elven warrior gave him a prompting look. "Well?"

Harry blinked, once more not knowing what the other wanted from him. "What?"

"Are you going to make this," he pointed with disdain at the many linked rings covering the short man to his knees, "fit your size?"

For a moment the vampire wanted to say he had no idea how he was supposed to do this, when it finally hit him. Was he a wizard or not? Of course he could reduce the chain mail's size.

Taking the amused, albeit slightly exasperated elf by the arm, Harry snuck into a very narrow, dark alley that stunk of dirt and even more strongly of urine; obviously a public toilet.

Letting the elf block the entrance Harry went to work. It wasn't a difficult task. Reforming something was second year material at most. Many of Hogwarts' teachers even taught the basics to First Years. The metal also proved to be of at least average quality by magic reckoning, as it was easily shrunk and didn't protest to being reformed slightly. Still he took his time, determined to have a good result to show at the end.

When the vampire joined Haldir once more, he felt more confident. He knew he no longer looked like some orphan that had sought refugee or ridiculous in his over-sized armour. Next to the elf stood an although short warrior of high rank and the vampire felt secure to assume that role once more. The role of a saviour used to be an annoyance to him, but at least it wasn't as foreign or hated as the one of an innocent bystander or worse yet villain. Knowing how to play this role he strode through the sanctuary with his friend keeping his back straight and his stride purposeful.

It was time to meet the king. Yes, they had to talk to the man, because if they didn't prepare thoroughly, an attack would end in a massacre. There weren't many men left to fight, apart from those that were actually too old and those who probably have so far only heard about blood-shed in bedtime stories.

With more than a little regret Harry passed the increasingly familiar heat of the smithy and saw how one of the apprentices helped a child of no more than twelve years into a piece of armour. Similar pictures could be seen in the armoury.

Men and boys who could hardly lift a sword were given those and more, almost being forced to the ground by the weight of their own armour and weapons. Shaking his head the war-veteran quickened his step and fell into step with the sober blond. Something was becoming increasingly obvious to Harry. He had to convince the king to adopt a rather modern concept. He dreaded the talk already, but Harry was very sure that otherwise their army would under no circumstances be victorious.

This time Harry was allowed to pass the two guards without any comment whatsoever. Entering the hall he immediately noticed the changed atmosphere. It reeked of bad news.

Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn and Boromir were standing by the table, talking insistently to the king, who was sifting hectically through the many papers on his desk. The many advisers at the table were the only ones who noticed them, when they arrived and to Harry they all looked rather lost and hopeless.

"We need to contact Gondor somehow!" Boromir almost yelled.

"The elves have yet to forget the times when we were brother's in arms. They would not leave to let you die here. They would gladly sent you some of their forces," Legolas cried passionately.

"Am I supposed to try sending the precious few men I have out to seek help that will not – _cannot _be given? All of your people have their own wars to wage. I have no certain evidence of the state of the elven or the dwarven realms, but I have been informed by the scouts and people that survived the first assault of my lands that the enemy is _everywhere_. It covers Middle Earth with a blanket of War."

"We have been systematically driven apart," Aragorn spoke up with mild horror, but as he continued he managed to ban all emotion from his voice. "Between us and any friend is not only too great a distance now, but also the enemy."

The king nodded, agreeing regretfully.

"Well, at least you have six friends here then?" Harry tried and succeeded in finally drawing the rooms attention.

Laughing without mirth the king waved him over and stated in a dead-pan sort of voice, "I am regretful to inform you that six more swords, while appreciated will mean little against our number of enemies, especially against enemies of this strength."

"I don't think I'm being cocky, saying that my help counts more than just one sword," Harry tried, smiling encouragingly.

The king sighed, nodding. "I have already been informed by your companions and some of my people that your and Boromir's skills are quite _extraordinary_, Harry of no land." He gave Harry a look that spoke of a private word about past days and the vampire dearly wished he weren't above getting back at the others for telling the old man everything. Then again they must have done a rather good job as he hadn't been threatened, yet.

Just to be on the safe side, Harry glanced around suspiciously, almost expecting to suddenly be assaulted by a couple of guards. When nothing happened he questioned the other wonderingly, "You know _what _I am?"

"Of course I do," the king said sounding vaguely insulted. "If your friends had not warned me beforehand, the rumours flying about and your actions concerning your armour," he eyed the now fitting chainmail with a strange look and Harry realised that he had fallen into a trap, "would have certainly made me connect you to the dirty young man in rags I thought I had defeated long ago."

Raising an eyebrow and glancing briefly in the direction of the exit, Harry asked disbelievingly, "And you don't mind?"

The man smiled without humour, turning it into hardly more than an ugly grimace. "At the moment I can hardly choose my friends, can I?" He sighed, letting his head sink, so his long braided hair fell in front of his face. Somehow this made him for the first time look truly old in the immortal's eyes. "And," the king furiously rumbled the papers unlucky enough to find themselves under his fingers at that moment, "if we do not find a way to somehow multiply our man, I do fear this will be our last battle anyway. Saruman has no need to send another spy into our ranks."

"My King!" a man with a shaggy blond mane, spoke up with barely controlled fury, "You cannot say such things! We have not yet lost, by any reckoning."

"Even by that of fate?" the old man asked morosely.

"I'm pretty sure fate is on your side," Harry put in to keep the man of Rohan from saying something he would regret later. As all eyes turned to him, expecting him to elaborate, he explained, "I mean, how likely is it to be born as king?"

Raising a rather bushy brow, the powerful mortal thought about this for a moment and then finally nodded, a spark of hope starting to return to his dead eyes. "So you are implying that I was chosen to be king? That I somehow have the qualities it takes to see my people through this and have therefore been born for this?"

The king had gone too far in his interpretation. So far that Harry didn't agree with his words any more. He didn't really believe a king was born as a special person, but there was something he could say with all honesty. "This whole system of you leading your people because you were your father's son only makes sense if you were somehow born for this, doesn't it?" This was Harry's test of the king, although he might have been completely unaware of it. He had to prove to the vampire that he was not some dunderhead who had only inherited the crown.

When the king finally began speaking again, there was a new confidence in his voice and Harry immediately turned his attention back to him, "We are talking about an enemy that has proven to be stronger than one of us and their army seems to be at least five times greater than ours. We have gone through all strategies that have been used in the past to fend off seemingly almighty foes, but nothing seems to be enough to me."

Nobody in the room spoke. The numbers were still floating around in their heads and they were trying to calculate their overall chances, despite their attempts to raise the king's spirits.

Closing his eyes, the vampire of modern times made the decision to finally talk to the king about a rather new concept; maybe too 'new'. Shoving some papers to the side, Harry leant heavily on the table. "Maybe you should risk the other half of your people then."

Uncomprehending the men in the room merely gave him curious looks, but those in the room that weren't human nodded in agreement, although Haldir did so somewhat reluctantly. "What do you mean?"

"He gives the rather logical advice to double your count of swords by asking your women to arm themselves," Legolas spoke up calmly. At first the room was deathly silent. They just stared at the elf and vampire in turn as though they expected this to be an ill-timed, sick joke, but neither broke under their furious eyes.

Then the calm was broken, all at once the men jumped to their feet, shouting in outrage. Even Aragorn and Boromir seemed to be disgusted by this foreign concept.

"You cannot expect us to shove swords into the hands of our mothers, wives, sisters and daughters," hissed the blond who had stood up to his king earlier. Now that Harry looked at him more closely the man looked a great deal like the king when they met twenty years ago.

Smirking in the most unpleasant way he could muster, the vampire rebutted, "You do seem to have no problem shoving them into the hands of your grandfathers, little brothers and sons."

Harry was sure that if the king hadn't laid a calming hand on his arm, the blond would have jumped over the table separating them and punched him.

"I'm sorry if this idea offends you, but I see no other way," Harry told them placatingly. "The sheer number of our enemies is just too great."

Sighing the king rubbed his eyes and the vampire almost dared to believe he had managed to make the other at least consider this move of action, but the man just stated, "I am glad you wish to help us, but I fear the place you hail from differs to greatly from our culture. You understand us too little to be of help in the planning of this war."

Furious Harry bit his lip to keep himself from telling the man exactly what he thought of this bloody pride that was so important to everyone in this world and their old-fashioned virtues they held onto, even though it would mean their death. What good would their culture do them if they didn't survive to pass it on? Rolling his eyes the vampire left chagrined.

He was so angry! With Boromir and Aragorn for not siding with him. With the elves and Gimli for not speaking up in the end, since they didn't want to be thrown out, too. With Gandalf for not being here and making people see sense with a few wise words. With the king for being stubborn and not putting his people before his pride. With this whole world for being at war at all!

Why was he here really? This wasn't his war. He had sworn to himself after defeating Voldemort, he wouldn't partake in one ever again. Of course he had always known he would continue to fight 'evil', but a war wasn't like that. In war you lost people left and right and lost things even if you won.

Drawing in an unnecessary breath that helped calm his senses due to the old familiarity of the act, Harry climbed on top of a small wall and let the wind nudge him this and that way.

As the sun shown on his pale face the vampire felt serenity return to him and with it came grudging understanding. What had he expected? That they suddenly let go of beliefs that were ages old? People at home used to believe in the inferiority of women as well and in some heads this misbelief had been stuck even in the 21st century.

Someone was pulling on his chain mail, trying to get his attention. As he looked down he saw a very young Rohirric girl with blond locks and a dirty face. Next to her on the ground was a bucket of water, which she had obviously been carrying to some place and under her arm she was carrying a little rag doll. As he studied her curiously the little one had a look of concentration on her face. Finally she opened her mouth and stuttered in hacked Common, "No be afraid." Nodding to herself in decision and giving him a smile, that was missing some teeth, the child handed him her dirty doll. "Eowyn protect you! Need more as I."

Astonished Harry looked first at the doll now-cradled in his hands and then at the little one giving him a brilliant smile, although her teeth were rotting away in her mouth. He must have looked pretty desperate, if the child thought he had been afraid of the upcoming battle. It finally occurred to him that he should say something, so he got off his low perch and knelt down to her level. In the most princely voice he could muster, he thanked, "I'm very grateful for your gracious gift, young Lady. I will return her to you once the battle is over." Smiling and blushing brightly the blonde ran off, almost forgetting her bucket of water.

Harry took the girl's doll into gentle hands. It looked a little like those dolls the Firsties were given to practice their first animation-charms on, only that this was one was more worn. Their task was usually to let them dance around or do other little things. Grinning he remembered catching a couple of boys playing 'Doll-Wars'. A game in which they made their dolls fight each other. Something they had probably seen on TV.

Testing one of the little arms of fabric he wryly wondered whether he _could_ make this 'Eowyn protect him'. He suddenly got the amusing picture of an army of well-worn dolls facing off against the orcs out there and couldn't help but laugh.

But was it really that impossible? To let someone else do the fighting, so the men of fragile flesh and blood would remain safe? If he wasn't very mistaken similar things had become common practice among the muggles.

Biting his lip he could feel his brain working, as hope burned in his heart. Looking around secretively as though he feared someone might have watched and somehow figured out what he was planning, Harry called to the girl who was running by, most likely on a new errand.

He leant in closely and thievishly whispered to her of a few things he would need help with. Excitedly she waved other children over and soon they had rallied a great part of the little ones of Rohan and some of their mothers.

It was night and the Keep was unusually silent, when the enemy's army came close enough to see them with mere human sight. The whole structure had been lit with an immense number of torches.

As the army of vampires drew nearer, Harry finally learned what elves felt like when he was in close proximity. Fear. There were so many of them that even he wasn't immune to their effect. Or maybe it was just natural to feel that way when your view turned into a moving sea of enemies. Hundreds upon hundreds of black bodies flooded over the hills and into the gap between the keep and the Dike. In that moment it started pouring rain from the heavens and thunder growled in the distance.

Looking around the green-eyed man felt alone. The vampire sorely missed the harsh sounds of breathing mortals always emitted. The rattling of the old and new armour around him and the jarring of stone against stone was unnerving and somehow the patter of rain couldn't seem to drown it. Only one friend stood next to him and the other vampire was currently furious with him, not really wanting to understand that Harry had to do what he did.

A volley of arrows flew over the vampire's head, but no cry of pain disturbed the night, only the shattering of wood and the noise of the metal heads getting stuck in armour. Without any command the shots were answered with an equal amount of wildly burning arrows that set those vampires they hit on fire. Those orcs around them hardly noticed that their comrades went down.

Under his chain mail, he felt the comforting form of the rag doll, always reminding him what he was fighting for. Tightening his grip on his hammer, Harry waited for the black surge to break upon them.

**_AN.:_ If you want to know what our favourite little blood-sucker had been up to in the missing time before the battle, please review. I'm quite sure most of you will be surprised, although I have given some big hints.**


	15. The Puppets used in War

**The three forms of a vampire:** Vampires have basically three forms. One is their most human form. They look like they did when they died, their senses are only slightly sharper than those of the average human (Harry is still somewhat short-sighted, but simply learned to live with it, because it's better than it used to be.) and they are only slightly stronger and faster than before, because they do not feel any strain when they reach their limits. The second one is the form they change into when there is little to no light. In this form they are stronger, faster and can see and hear better. This is also the form in which their eyes change to red and they have fangs. Then there is the form they take on if they have a very low level of blood and are in a lot of pain (Having little blood in their bodies is painful itself though). Taking this form can be fought to a certain degree if the vampire is strong willed, as this form actually has a mind that is somewhat distinct. They are even stronger and faster than in their nightly form. Their pupils almost disappear in their widened red irises and their fangs are longer than in their second form. They lose their mind and cannot tell friend and foe apart, only other vampires that are rather close to them stand a chance of not being attacked at least as long as the crazed vampire still has some semblance of control left.

**AN.: **Deathly Hallows was awesome, but turned this into an AU. Maybe I'll edit the early chapters later on to make this story fit DH a little better, but I'm not sure, yet, because I obviously can't make it fit 100 any more.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 15 – The Puppets of War**

Ducking the vampire was narrowly missed by yet another volley of arrows that came flying over the wall. A clash of thunder drowned out the pattering sound of them meeting hard stone and thick armour.

As he huddled behind the wall for a moment longer, he swallowed deeply, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He certainly didn't succeed when a volley of their own side resulted not only in inhuman shrieks, but also in human cries of pain. It was one thing to kill the Wildmen in battles one on one, but a whole different one to passively watch them fall in bloody heaps from afar. He almost wished the squirming, black carpet that was covering the valley would move faster, so they'd reach the point faster when his pity would make way to survival instinct and adrenaline.

He wished Boromir would say something in order to distract him from the eerie absence of all human sounds in the Keep, but the soldier stared determinedly ahead. The young undead was still angry with him, which didn't surprise the older vampire in the slightest, since he knew the tall man to be resentful. Feeling even more depressed Harry thought of all his missing friends and how he wished they were standing next to him now, ready to watch his back like his friends in his old world had done all the time. The wizard knew that fighting in this battle was a death sentence for everyone who had a life to give though and was rather glad that they weren't there. Especially whenever he dared to look at the writhing mass below and saw how very fast the mortal men were falling, while the vampires simply continued moving onward even if they had already been hit by an arrow or two that had been successfully put out. Noone seemed to care about whether they trampled their wounded.

As he saw the cruelty of those creatures, his belief that what he had done had been necessary to prevent a massacre on their side of the war was strengthened. He doubted many people apart from those who had readily helped would agree with him though. Haldir had taught him how important honour was to the people of Middle Earth. It almost seemed to distinguish between good and bad. Feeling very frustrated, he realised that they wouldn't view his actions as highly honourable.

An arrow was crushed by its own force on the stone just to his left and he winced slightly.

He couldn't really blame the mortals for disapproving of his actions either. If he had been in their shoes, he'd have readily agreed. He had after all drugged them and robbed them of the chance to fight for their own lives.

It had been laughably easy. He had rallied the children and told them to find the ingredients for a potion (a rather enthusiastic little boy had even found and gutted a newt for him) that would make the men fall fast asleep. Meanwhile he had talked to a few hysterically crying women who had been forced to let their young sons be taken away and given armour and weapons. They were easily convinced to follow his cause and were soon found supposedly playing with the children, while the potion, which Harry made in the kitchen, simmered. Just as he had asked them to, they set together big great, stone forms that somewhat resembled great human bodies lying on the floor. Some soldiers had watched this with somewhat bemused expressions, but most shrugged it off as a means to keep the little ones busy and keep them believing that they were helping.

When the potion was finished he handed a tiny bit to all of his helpers and they didn't only put it into all the ale and water they handed out but also poisoned the very water supply of the citadel. Not an hour later everyone that had had a drink since then was fast asleep. For some time the fortress had looked like a picture of the castle from the fairytale "Sleeping Beauty". Soldiers had fallen asleep leaning on their lances, stable hands were halfway lying over unconscious horses, Gimli had looked as though he had enjoyed his ale a little too much, Aragorn, the King and all his advisers were snoring around the table in the hall and the elves had been narrowly rescued from burning their hands, as they had been about to show a young blacksmith some secrets of the art.

It had been a downright pain to take everyone's armour off and then transport them into the depths of the Glittering Caves, but with a lot of work and some magic on Harry's part they had managed to evacuate everyone on time. The mortals were being protected by most of the stone guardians and the wizard hoped it would be enough to hold the enemy off should any vampires slip past them or in the worst case the whole army overpower them.

Smiling despite the situation, the wizard couldn't help but feel proud of himself, as he admired his spell-work. Flitwick would have been pleased to see that although Harry had had problems making his pineapple dance in his first year, he now controlled many, many hundreds of suits of armour. They weren't nearly as intelligent as Hogwarts', but certainly understood the concept of killing everything that purposefully attacked them.

All of this had cost an unholy amount of blood, but the vampire hoped the people would be too occupied with the fact that they had slept through the entire battle to notice those little bandages around their arms which hid almost unnoticeable twin marks.

The wall shook under Harry's feet and he looked down the side of wall. His mouth hung open as he witnessed how lines of vampires were pressing their bodies into the wall. Some ran into it repetitively, sending light tremors through the ground. With the combined power of so many vampires could they just break down walls of this size? It seemed impossible, but a wave that caused Harry to lose his footing convinced the vampire of it.

Unsheathing his wand he sent a chain of lights flying along the wall which quickly turned the masses directly below into their weaker day-forms. Smiling he mentally thanked Remus for teaching him this charm, while they were decorating the house for Christmas.

A little confused some orcs tried to find the source of the sudden additional light, but they were unable to find him among the many empty helmets. It was then that the vampire spied something in the distance. It looked as though the orcs were carrying something. Tilting his head, the vampire narrowed his eyes and realising it looked rather long – rather like a ladder? Indeed they were carrying a ladder and although the child of modern days had never heard of such methods before, it didn't take a genius to figure out what it was used for.

Only a moment later more ladders and other machines of war which could help them overcome the impossible heights of the Hornburg's walls came into focus before his eyes and with a few choice-words Harry quickly changed the command of those armours nearest to him, which instantly stopped aiming at those orcs that were shooting arrows at them and instead aimed at those carrying ladders and moving the machines. They were not doing a very good job though and they couldn't possibly reach the orcs making their way towards the lower walls with their arrows.

The ones making their way in his direction though were so quickly taken down that some ladders and machines had almost stopped their forward movement. One ladder, which had come dangerously close had actually buried many of its carriers after half of them had been shot down. It hardly seemed to matter though, because the defenders only managed to slow a minuscule part of the whole. There were so many orcs that those that were set on fire could be most easily replaced.

A loud crash drew his attention. His mouth hung open, as he saw that a thick full body armour of shimmering steel had drawn its long sword and thrown itself down the wall to meet the enemy. Although the fall only gave it a few dents, it was almost immediately swallowed by the sea of enemies, but whenever Harry thought it had disappeared for good, it performed a sweeping movement with its sword and got a little bit of space. It seemed that after all those fights the armour and weapons had been used in, some of their users' skills and maybe even personality remained behind in them. The muggles of this world sure were unusual.

As more metal and leather crashed into the enemies below, the wizard swore, although he knew very well that it was his fault for giving such liberal instructions. Feeling a little like he was being paid back for being just as brash as these mindless suits of armour he sent flames down at the orcs with a lethal glint in his eyes.

A terrible slamming and the screech of metal against stone drew his attention further down the wall where orcs were already pouring into their sanctuary. He was about to run over there to help his puppets, but Boromir was faster. Running past him, the younger vampire yelled, "I'll take those! Take care of the ones up there before they manage to secure the ladder."

Wasting a minute to surprise Harry turned around and saw that the enemy was raising another ladder. Rushing to meet his oncoming target, he tried to blast it away before it could reach the wall, but he missed his target and immediately had an ugly grimace of hate in his face. The Uruk's face was so scarred and deformed that it looked like someone had taken his whole face off, ripped it to bits and glued the pieces back on without too much care of what belonged where.

Having been struck by the awful picture Harry only barely managed to avoid the blow aimed for his head and lost his footing, as he stumbled out of reach. Before he had regained his balance the beast had fully climbed over the wall and attempted to strike him again, which the wizard only managed to avoid by letting himself fall gracelessly to ground.

From his position on the floor something which had previously gone unnoticed caught his eye. Now that it did, his eyes were glued to the sickening necklace the orc wore around his neck. It consisted of many bones and at the bottom hung a rotting skull. It wasn't just the mere fact that it was a _skull_ in the first place that made Harry forget everything around him - the sheer danger he was in. It was the skull's size. Far too tiny for even a hobbit's, it had to be an infant's.

His heart suddenly didn't feel the same, it felt hard and cold and didn't object in the slightest when he decided that death was a far too lenient punishment for this creature. With steady fingers he unpocketed his wand and calmly pointed it at the rather confused-looking orc chieftain, who paused in mid-strike. Smiling chillingly Harry said, "Crucio."

Screams of the most horrible kind suddenly drowned even those of the dyeing, those that were set on fire and those fighting. Like a wave the pleading and screeching slowly made everyone first in the near vicinity and then in the whole area pause. Even the soulless orcs were caught by the bone-chilling sounds, but for once Harry soft heart was completely unmoved by pleas for mercy. It had suddenly cast off all mercy, as though the sight of the infant's head had ultimately killed it.

The spectators meanwhile could not help but stare at the tortured orc and its foe, their battle for a moment forgotten in the face of something so horrible and although it was due to the mere fact that their command was no longer in effect, the way the lifeless dolls ceased to move, made it look like they too were struck with horror.

Suddenly all was silent, but the chieftain was not dead. It was just staring vacantly into the sky. Its murky brown eyes were showing nothing of its former, dark intent now. Everything seemed to wait with baited breath for the creature's darker nature to take over, but nothing happened. Harry had not only driven his foe insane, but also every will to live out of him. Not even it's very most basic instincts of survival – the true vampire – was left of him. Smiling rather insanely the older dark creature felt very pleased with his work.

As the mighty wizard turned his head to the opponent nearest him, he was darkly amused by the way the creature's eyes widened and it backed away hastily. This orc proved not to be the only one who suddenly understood that there were fates worse than death. It didn't take long before the young-looking man had a wide birth. When they looked into those burning green eyes, the new breed of orcs learned true fear.

"I hope you left some for us, you little rat!" A voice called down from the upper level and Harry slowly looked up as though waking from a trance, only to see three silhouettes that really shouldn't - couldn't - be there.

He had put some of the potion into the dwarf's ale himself and the girl he had ordered to make sure the elves drank a healthy amount of water before the battle had assured him they did.

How come they woke up? It wasn't possible…

Then it hit him and he felt like an idiot, as the three jumped over a balustrade and came running towards him, killing invading orcs as they went. The potion had been invented to knock out humans, not dwarfs, which hardly mingled with the wizards of his world and definitely not elves, who didn't even exist in it. The three were obviously immune to its more lasting components… Or they had simply faked drinking and falling asleep. 

Whatever it was, finding out why they were there in the first place had to wait. At least he came to that decision, when an orc almost managed to run him through from behind and was only stopped by an arrow notched and shot so fast the vampire had been almost unable to follow. Grumbling softly Harry turned his attention back to the fighting, since it seemed the orcs were slowly overcoming their temporary fear of him. Probably because the reminder of his actions had become lost among the bodies and had more than likely already been trampled.

Sheathing his wand and unclasping his hammer from his back, he sent a quick prayer to the heavens. His fingers clenched reflexively around the handle of his weapon.

Facing the nearest foe Harry looked it straight in the eye and rushed towards it with great force. In the last moment though fear flashed in the creature's empty eyes and it jumped out of the way less than gracefully, causing the wizard to stumble a little, until he regained his footing. Blinking confusedly, he whirled around just in time to divert the course of a blood-encrusted sword to the side with the handle of his own weapon. Without thinking he rammed it forward with as much strength as he could muster and he both heard and felt a rib or two give to the force of his blow. His triumph was short-lived as the beast used the advantages of its much lighter weapon and gave Harry a light slash up his arm, that the old hero hardly felt, but heeded as a warning.

Narrowing his eyes he balanced the hammer with one hand and quickly took out his wand, hissing two words he thought he'd never say again, "Avada Kedavra!" Sickly, green light illuminated the area for a moment and then the thud of a body was somehow heard over those of all others'. He was mildly surprised that the killing curse actually worked on undead, but then again it had always been an often asked question just _how_ this curse killed.

Before he had time to think about this a lot more his peripheral vision made him duck as he was assaulted by two orcs on either side of him. Their weapons clashed and before they could back up Harry used the handle of his hammer to knock one of them off its feet. From out of nowhere came an axe that split the orc's head in two, making Harry quite sick, but he did send his helper, Gimli, a quick look of thanks. His head turned to the remaining orc.

Whipping his wand in the direction of his foe, he stupidly sent the cutting curse "Sectumsempra" in its direction. It only took him a moment to realise his mistake, but it was a moment too late and the other vampire lay on the ground, his blood already creating a small, black pool.

Not only he backed away as the creature rose again, red eyes flashing, despite the torch burning brightly right over its head.

Gulping nervously his eyes flitted to and fro, trying to catch sight of his friends. Taking mental notes he could immediately tell that Gimli was standing close to his back, obviously not having realise what was happening behind his comrade, yet. A short moment later he found Legolas standing on the stairs to an upper level together with some light armour-puppets that were still shooting burning arrows at the masses below with astonishing accuracy.

Then an animalistic growl was emitted by the beast in front of him and his eyes met those of the young, crazed undead.

The growl turned into something resembling a banshee's screech and without thinking Harry grabbed the dwarf by his axe-wielding arm running past a few orcs that seemed equally frightened of what was chasing them, hissing viciously and therefore making way for the retreating pair. It wasn't until he was thrown to the ground by a large, heavy body that their flight was cut short halfway to the elf who was defending the stairs to the upper levels.

Whipping his head around his eyes caught a glimpse of blackened, sharp fangs and a wide yaw, but just as those came down on him something flew right where the other vampire's head had been only moments ago. As it clattered noisily to the ground, Harry saw that it was a small throwing-axe. The ugly, snarling face of the blood-thirsty orc turned to Gimli who was kneeling on the floor where he must have fallen when Harry had been tackled.

Using its distraction to his advantage, the older vampire broke free of the hold pinning him down and Harry threw himself at it hoping to be able to nail it down, trying desperately to switch their position. Struggling with the beast seemingly out of nowhere a clawed hand gave him a nasty blow to his head that sent him flying backward on the slippery-wet stone with his head spinning.

The orc now towered over him and Harry couldn't help but be a little scared. Especially as its undead brethren had seemingly lost their fear and crowded around the two of them, probably hoping their strengthened comrade would take care of this particular menace. Even if he managed to subdue this crazed vampire, he would in a second be met by twenty or so of its comrades.

Struggling to his feet despite the way the floor still seemed to move underneath his feet, he dimly wondered when he had lost his hammer, as he slipped his wand into his hand. For but a moment the two vampires sized each other up, when quite suddenly the younger one's insanity made him rash and with unmatched speed and power he flew at the other one, interrupting the other in mid-spell when they collided.

For the second time Harry found his vision full of snapping fangs and grabbing clawed hands and his nostrils assaulted by the uniquely orcish smell of blood and rotting flesh.

From one moment to the other the two stilled somewhat and it took Harry a second to comprehend what had happened. The events had been too quick to follow. The younger vampire had finally used his advantages of speed and strength and nailed him down by his shoulders. It was only now that the splitting pain in Harry's shoulder-blades registered to him, but this didn't stop him from futilely trying to break the vice-like grip the other vampire had on his shoulders. Hissing angrily at the snarling beast above him, he even tried the dirty trick of kicking the other between its legs, which he wasn't surprised didn't work, since that part of its anatomy was protected by its armour.

Fangs finally descended slowly and while the wizard knew this couldn't kill him he did not fancy being brought to the same state this creature was in, so he doubled his struggles.

Suddenly the orc threw its head back and screamed in pain whirling around again and again in a futile attempt to reach the two burning arrows that were stuck deep within its back. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw two tall proud figures standing side-by-side on top of a nearby building, their bows already notched with the next arrows.

Not wasting another moment Harry quickly stole a curved sword from the hands of a particularly dumb-looking orc that hadn't been expecting to be involved and ran towards the inflamed, panicked vampire, drawing the sword back and performing the wide arc he had seen his puppets use to despatch of quite a few orcs.

It took a moment for the body to crumble like a building, but when it did all hell broke lose around the wizard and he was attacked from all sides at once.

The sword in his hand helped him very little, as he didn't know how to use it nearly as well as the orcs around him and he almost found himself overtaken when he felt something roll underneath his boots, nearly causing him to stumble. Glancing down for but a second he noticed that it was his wand. He must have lost it sometime during his struggle with the orc.

Trying to find an opportunity to pick up his wand, think of a spell that could get him out of this mess and not to get mauled in the process, the black-haired man was hardly surprised, when he was hit by a shield in his back and jostled right into the sword of one of the other orcs. He screamed. The blade was pulled out and in that moment he hurt so much that he was almost glad when he saw that the orc was about to end it.

They say that before ones life ends they see their life flashes before their eyes and this seemed to apply for the unlife of a vampire as well. Things he had forgotten long ago came back to the surface, good and bad and he made his peace with everything, even Hermione who may or may not be already waiting for him together with everyone else.

This peaceful moment in time was cut short, when the orc's expression turned to shock and then froze. Instead of beheading the older one, its head rolled off its shoulders and its sword swayed off course and got stuck in Harry's arm for a moment, before being pulled out by the creature's heavy arm.

Not being able to hold back a scream for the second time today Harry tried to keep his senses together and the blackness at bay. As the darkness faded Boromir appeared where the orcs had been seconds ago, coming to the side of his swaying friend and keeping the enemy at a distance.

When the vampire felt secure that he wouldn't lose control, he risked looking his friend over and made sure he had everything under control before crouching down and picking up his wand which was lying nearby. Slipping one hand into a pouch that was attached to his armour he fished out a miniscule bottle with some red liquid.

With a flick of his wand the bottle grew back to its original size and while his eyes remained attentive, he downed the blood as fast as he possibly could.

Shaking his head as it finally cleared again, he grabbed the other vampire's arm and when their eyes met, he nodded discretely in the direction of the upper level, where he hoped their mortal friends had already fallen back to. There was hardly anything left of the armours on this level, although the bits and pieces of them continued fighting bravely.

On the count of ten the two sprinted towards and up the stairs shooting spells to one side and swinging a sword like a scythe on the other. To his dread the armour that had been defending the stairs had been turned into nothing more than trash and beyond the pile of mangled, twitching metal he saw that his three mortal friends were standing in a tight circle. He could see the blood drip out from underneath the helmets and out of gashes in their armour. The grip on their weapons was somewhat slack, their wheezing breathing could be heard over the wind and rain and their shoulders were slumped with fatigue. All in all Harry could tell that his mortal friends were fast approaching the limits of their endurance.

When a particularly great and mean-looking orc with a morning star was about to take out Legolas, Harry once more sent the darkest of all curses and whatever the sickly green light passed seemed to shudder with dread. A torch flickered and went, as the green touch of death passed by too closely. The orc it was intended for felt the coming of death just in time to be met by the curse right in its deformed face.

They say that the killing curse did not only take the victim with them, but also cost the caster a part of their good heart and in that moment Harry would have agreed, as he no longer cared how dark the curses were which he cast or how much precious human blood it cost him. He killed vampiric orcs left and right or made them kill each other.

When he finally reached the group he must have been splattered with blood and gore and made a rather horrifying picture, because they unconsciously backed a little away and looked a little wary, but he merely took a place in their group and turned around facing their foes.

Whenever he looked a beast in the eye it backed away which was slightly disconcerting on one level, but extremely gratifying on another. Finally two orc-chieftain had the guts to attack him together, but he calmly cast, "Imperio," on one of them making it fall behind the other and when its comrade turned to look back at it in confusion made the one under his control kill the other and despatch of a number of others before it was finally taken down by one of its own.

All these little victories on his side meant nothing though and Harry knew it very well. For every orc he killed two made their way past his puppets and came running up the stairs. There seemed to be no end of them. How many of them were left? Hundreds? Thousands? Downing another bottle of the red life-giving liquid, the oldest vampire felt hopelessness creep into him. No matter how many of them they had managed to take down one thing was for sure: There were far less of their own left to fight.

An almost inaudible voice to his left whispered, "Make them obey you, Harry. You can. I am sure of it. It may be our very last chance."

Glancing sideways at the speaker - who turned out to be Legolas - the former Chosen One hissed, "I would if I could make all of them obey me at once, but I can only take over one at a time." Grudgingly he admitted to himself that some Death Eaters had been able to control many more, but he had never been the type to practice such spells.

Giving Harry a look, the elf still spoke uncharacteristically cut off, as he tried to regain his breath, "They do not know that. They do not know the extent of your power, which is the exact reason why you might be able to gain control."

Sending a Crucio at another orc that dared to come closer, Harry sent his elven friend, who shuddered as he watched how nonchalant his companion tortured another, a confused look.

Visibly refraining from groaning at his friend's incomprehension the elf explained, "Orcs only listen to anyone, because they fear their master more than death. I think at this point in time they fear you as much if not more than Saruman. You just have to push them a little further."

"Are you joking?!" the vampire snarled at the elf softly, sending a orc crashing into a wall.

"He might be right, Harry. And even if you do not manage to get them under your control, what have we got to lose? Not to mention after making that pompous advisor do as you wished, convincing a few orcs of your superiority should be an easily-accomplished," Boromir cut himself off with a grunt as he barely parried a blow with his big shield and after a short battle cut off his attacker's head. "…task."

Not really convinced of it, but not seeing how it could do any harm, apart from focusing all attention on him, he straightened himself, took off his helmet and took a few steps forward, away from the protective circle his friends had formed. The move seemed to stun the orcs a bit, making the fighting in the immediate area come to a sort of stand-still, as they waited for his next move. Looking around with a derogative gaze, he yelled so as many as possible would hear, "I'm giving you a last chance. Follow me and I will not drown you _all_ in a sea of pain." Harry had expected the orcs to laugh, but if it weren't for the still persistent rain and the somewhat distant-sounding fighting, you could have heard a pin drop.

Then finally a single orc chieftain wearing a necklace of different bones cracked, chuckling breathlessly like a chain smoker. A few rather nervously followed his example. And to further prove that there was nothing to fear from the little creature he met Harry's eyes directly. If it weren't for this grave mistake the wizard might have given up this ridiculous endeavour, but in those sunken eyes he could see quite clearly the lingering fear. The beast wheezily proclaimed, "We serve Saruman!" But Harry was no longer fooled. There was little to do. Legolas was right they only needed a small push further in the right direction.

Before any of the other chieftains could be swayed by their comrades courage, the oldest vampire had snarled a single curse and the foul creature was lying on the ground. With morbid fascination, the caster, his friends and the vampires surrounding them watched as the creature first screamed, then howled, then only had the breath to emit a strange sort of whimpers, which turned into odd gurgling sounds and finally there was silence. During all this the only articulate thoughts Harry's mind could process were of wonder at the orc's suddenly no longer wheezing voice and that not a single orc tried to end his own existence while he was occupied with that single creature. Even if these monsters understood something like the concept that one didn't kill another during negotiations, they wouldn't have been bound by it, as the black-haired man had attacked one of their leaders first.

Lifting the curse, since there would be no further effect, the oldest vampire noticed out of the corner of his eyes that a different orc-leader was about to speak up. Quickly and inconspicuously Harry pointed his wand in that creature's direction and instead of saying whatever it had been about to, it yelled, "We serve the Dark Wizard." It fell to its knees and bowed its head in submission. Murky, dark eyes widened in disbelief and some seemed to consider following the example, but not quite ready to face the wrath of those who still looked unshaken, whose majority was undeniable. This would have to change. The wizard's face turned into a mask of anger, when not a single orc dared to change their alliance.

When an orc near the one he controlled was about to either jerk the other up to its feet or what was more likely behead the other, Harry quickly cast another Imperius and finally a second orc was on its knees. It was then that inspiration struck the vampire and keeping his wand almost still and his lips almost closed, he threw every orc chieftain he could pick out among the sea of enemies to its knees. Slowly but surely creatures all around followed the example of the strongest among them, showing subservience to this little runt of a vampire that held powers which suddenly seemed greater and more fearsome than those of the mightiest of all Maiar.

When Gandalf the White arrived with Rohan's finest and most loyal men, hoping against all odds that he was still on time, he was rather surprised to find the picture that expected him. Saruman's great army was camping in the bowl-shaped area underneath the Hornburg. If it were a different enemy they were up against he'd have assumed that they were trying to starve the people of Rohan out, but orcs didn't have the patience for that. As his sharp gaze surveyed the area his eyes found what could be the reason for the orcs' strange strategy. A standard not too far away to be made out showed not the expected white hand, but was simply composed of varying shades of red and black. It looked like they had done no more than dye their old flags with none too great care. What they had used for dye, he didn't wish to delve into.

The Rohirrim looked at him questioningly and he nodded a little unsure of himself. They raced towards the orc encampment intent on starting their attack. The air rang with their valourous cries.

Strangely the orcs looked up in suspicion and hate and had a hard grip on their weapons, but didn't raise them in the slightest. Before his companions could cleave off a single orc-head he gave them the signal to stop. It was awkward how they stood in the middle of an orc encampment and both sides looked like they would like nothing more than to start a massacre, but it was obvious that the evil side was held back. It was as though they were leashed and despite wishing otherwise Gandalf was too intrigued to start the fight. His instincts told him to halt as well and he knew that it was wise to listen to them.

It was then that he noticed the figure covered in dark grey robes that was approaching them. He could be seen from afar very well as he was given a wide birth of respect and fear. Carrying himself with confidence and a certain aura of power, the figure demanded attention. It wasn't until the robes fluttered open for a moment revealing a small, very thin frame, that the mighty wizard connected this powerful, evil-looking person whose bearing reminded him a little of the Nazgul with the sickly, unsure, boyish immortal he had met in the mines and then again in Fangorn.

For but a moment he doubted the other wizard, but then their eyes met and Gandalf saw a great deal of helplessness, as though the other was neither sure how he had gotten himself into this position nor how he was supposed to deal with it. Now more than ever before the younger wizard seemed to be nothing but a lost child.

If it weren't for the graveness of the situation the older wizard would have laughed, but the other had obviously gotten himself into a great deal of trouble.

With a stern, almost foreboding expression the mighty Istari gave another sweeping glance around and took note that the flags all around indeed used to be those bearing the white hand, which still shimmered through here and there. Hardly one moved in the wind, as most were still heavy and dripping with the blood that had been used to dye them red and black.

**AN.: **This took me way longer than I thought it would and I don't even like it a lot, but at least it got the story where it was supposed to go. Please tell me whether you like it or not.


	16. The Orc Chieftain

**AN.: **Sorry, I know I promised to get this done sooner, but it just didn't work.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

**The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality**

**Chapter 16 – The Orc Chieftain**

The cloth was itching, Harry noted as he slipped into the garments with practised ease.

When the robes had been brought to him by a stony-faced Boromir, the wizard had felt an immediate dislike for the thing. Deep down he knew that it had nothing to do with the quality of the fabric though; after all he had worn rags and armour with little discomfort. Rather it was the reason why he had to wear it. They were a signal, a symbol.

The only reason why the orcs were following him was that he intimidated them and the only reason why those creatures feared a little runt like him was because he was a wizard. The robes were something that they associated with magic-users and - in order to signify his position - they had to be worn. At least this was the gist of the elves' message that Boromir had relayed to him in a sober voice.

Frowning darkly Harry remembered that - for the very same reason - he could no longer interact freely with the dwarf and the elves either. Boromir was sent running up to the keep and down to the orc-encampment like a mere messenger, which did nothing to improve the man's already foul mood. There was nothing he could do about it though. Being a rather fearsome vampire himself and respected by their master Boromir was grudgingly acknowledged as second in command by the orcs. It was fairly unlikely that they would dare attack him behind their leader's back. Elves and dwarves on the other hand would most likely be anything but safe.

Harry picked up the long, slender knife Haldir had given his friend before he departed to check on the slumbering men and hiding women and children. The reflective surface of the blade was the only thing remotely mirror-like he had. Grimacing Harry tried to flatten his hair, but as always it was a lost cause, as every single hair seemed to have a mind of its own. In his opinion this destroyed any effect the robes could possibly have. After all, had there ever been a dark lord who had a hair that looked like a bird's nest? Harry doubted it.

It was then that an orc all but barged into his tent and looked like it would have started reporting something immediately if it weren't for the wand Harry was now pointing straight into the intruders face. It was an ordinary, living orc; one of the kind whose lack of intelligence was written all over its scarred face. It seemed this breed of orc was mainly brought along to be a food supply for their vampiric comrades.

Cocking his head and raising an eyebrow, the black-haired wizard thought idly that the beast in front of him bore a strange resemblance to a bull dog, as the beast looked at him dumbly and fearfully from where it was cowering. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes the undead prompted in a growling voice, "What?" The wizard felt rather proud of how this came out. It sounded more like a threat than a question.

Eyes flitting nervously everywhere but at Harry or the wand pointed at its face, the greenish-skinned monster seemed to wonder how he could get out of this without being hurt or worse. It looked rather painful, as though old rusty gears were trying to turn after years of disuse. As the creature trembled, opening and closing its mouth in a fruitless attempt to articulate itself in his presence, the older vampire wondered whether he should punish it or stop imitating Voldemort. It was a little frightening to him how fast this behaviour became natural.

Losing his patience, Harry finally lowered his wand a fraction and asked again, letting his impatience show, "What is it? Your entrance suggested that it must have been important." The 'or else' hung silently in the air.

Remembering that it indeed _was _a matter of urgency, the creature began gesticulating wildly in its agitation and hopped from its left normal foot to its right somewhat flattened deformed one. It squeaked in a voice that was too high-pitched and choked to fit its plump owner, "Riders coming. Sent to get you, master." A war cry drifted to him and Harry felt the uncharacteristic need to harm the creature for the mere reason of wasting so much precious time. He wasn't sure whether his minions would continue to listen to his command if they were attacked themselves.

He had been expecting Gandalf's return for a while now and was starting to get agitated since the men of Rohan were due to wake up in a few hours at most. By that time he wanted to be gone. Running from a confrontation was not usually his style, but he didn't want to face Aragorn. He had discovered - if truly irked - Aragorn could be far worse than Legolas, Boromir and Haldir combined, who were all down in his books as rather foul-tempered at times. Initially Harry had considered not even waiting for Gandalf, but he needed some advice on what he should do with his newly-acquired army. Although neither Legolas nor Haldir lacked wisdom, Boromir didn't lack an overview of the war going on in Gondor and none of them lacked an education in the art of warfare, Harry thought it best to ask the almost omniscient wizard for council – it was probably due to the force of habit.

Leaving his tent without further ado he was assaulted by the smells and noises of the orc camp. Excrements, sweat and blood, clanging of metal, creaking of hardened leather and the shouting of thousands of unpleasant voices all came crushing down on him in such a sudden rush that the vampire had to take a moment to regain his bearings. When he opened the eyes, having not realised he had closed in the first place, he noticed that a group of muscled orc chieftains had surrounded him. It took him a moment to understand that their actions weren't meant to be hostile, but rather respectful. Refraining from snorting in a rather undignified manner, Harry realised that the dumb, living orc had probably stumbled into his tent the way it had, because it had been tossed in there by one of the big, scary chieftains. It seemed like they didn't have the guts to disturb him themselves.

Hastily they made their way through the parting crowd. The Rohirric war cries had faded away, which the wizard hoped wouldn't turn out to be cause for worry. He had seen enough massacres for the several lifetimes he had lived.

Harry had a feeling that they would soon reach their destination, since the orcs up ahead seemed to be increasingly occupied with what was happening in front of them. Some were roughly shouldered out of the way because they didn't notice the crowd they were in was making way for their leader. Suddenly the vampire had a good view of the thankfully unharmed, if very confused Rohirrim on top of their agitated war horses.

Looking straight ahead Harry strode forward, trying to regain that certain commanding aura that used to come so naturally to him, when he was young and not surrounded by people who looked like they could easily be his parents. Hopefully, the fact that he was given an ever increasing berth and the Rohirrim were unconsciously forcing their already nervous horses to back up meant that he was doing just that. It was then that he became aware of the shining white sage on his beautiful stallion, looking like the incarnation of some war god of old. If the younger one hadn't been keeping such a tight grip on himself he would have averted his eyes like the child the ancient being always managed to make him feel like.

"We have to negotiate," Harry said without preamble, hoping nobody had noticed the slight hitch in his voice. Gandalf was looking at him in a way that didn't bode well at all. The vampire was everything but easy to scare. He was actually known to be fearless to the point of stupidity at times, yet the other wizard was all but cloaking himself in an aura of power and anger.

To the younger magic-users immense relief the elder nodded curtly and dismounted. A handful of the men of Rohan meant to follow suite and act as an escort, but he waved them off.

Sensing the other's well-hidden concern for the wellbeing of his men, Harry barked out, "I told you what would happen to anyone who raised their weapons, didn't I?"

The orcs shuddered and shrank away from the dark-cloaked man, but gave collective sounds of affirmation.

Ignoring the intensive look of shock his friend was giving him and the nagging thought that Hermione and many others that had known him in his own world would be appalled by his treatment of the orcs, Harry strode back the way he came. He knew himself that no matter what kind of creatures those things were, it was neither healthy nor good by any means that he was deep down enjoying hurting those creatures - supremely sinister or not.

Sparing a more conscious look at his surroundings he realised that he had gotten quite lost. It was no real surprise as each of the leather-made tents looked pretty much the same. With an annoyed gesture he ordered a passing orc to take the lead, which it did, shaking like a leaf. The other wizard observed all of this with an unreadable expression, raising a curious eyebrow when it became apparent that the beast wouldn't stop trembling until it was dismissed. Out of the corner of his eyes Harry observed how the ancient man paid a lot of attention to the reaction they were getting from the crowd. Wincing slightly Harry remembered a rather wise statement he had heard in his youth. It went along the lines of estimating a man's character by observing how he treats those beneath him. But whoever had said that had surely never commanded one of those dark creatures, Harry thought passing one which had decorated the shoulder pads of its armour with human skulls.

Feeling eyes on him the black-haired man noticed that the older wizard's deep eyes had been watching him from under the shade of his wide-rimmed hat. Somewhat bemused Harry couldn't help but think that the elder might have used clever tactics or mind magic to make him at least reflect his actions. Well, killing them quickly probably _was_ a whole different thing than torturing them to insanity with the darkest of magic. Not to mention the fact that this kind of magic was said to poison the mind of the user. As the other man gave him a very discrete nod and the hint of a smile the younger one could hardly refrain from groaning out loud. He truly wondered whether all wise old wizards were manipulative old coots at least to a certain degree, but he had to fight a smile at the thought as it was accompanied with a strange kind of fondness.

When they finally made it back to the leader's tent, Boromir was already there waiting for them. The soot-blackened armour Gimli hoped would make him fit into this army actually made him stand out as one of the most imposing looking individuals in the encampment. The warrior looked very much like one would picture the black knight from the stories. Especially the horned helmet which helped to turn the - if hot-headed - still at core good-hearted man into someone who could pass for a demon.

With a wry smile, he walked past the man motioning for him to follow and thinking that this was a little like a theatre play - with the two of them playing the antagonists. With a flick of his wand he closed the tent, sighing with relief as the enchantments he had placed on his tent kicked in muffling the noises and smells to a more bearable degree. Muttering low under his breath he walked around the tent once adding a ward against eavesdropping to the enchantments.

"So," a voice spoke up from behind him. "If I may ask so boldly, what has transpired here?"

Turning around, Harry fished for his prearranged words, as he motioned for the other two to sit down on the furs, which he suspected once belonged to a warg. Gandalf immediately sat down seemingly immune to any discomfort. While Boromir seemed to prefer to remain standing as he wordlessly leant against one of the roughly-hewn pillars. The warrior had taken off the grotesque helmet and seemed unaware of the slight crunch of his nose, as he watched the furs with distaste. The young vampire probably thought there might be lice in them, which wasn't all that far off, as Harry had previously discovered some and immediately thrown whatever critter-killing spell that came to mind at it. That such little pests weren't interested in him, didn't mean he had to like them.

Hesitating for but a moment longer, Harry sat down opposite of the sage and began to relay what had happened to Boromir and him, since they had parted ways in the marches. The other man listened with an unreadable, grave expression on his wizened face, nodding every now and again. Finally at the end of his tale, Harry said with a hint of the stress he was feeling creeping into his voice, "So now I have a few thousand men and orcs – many of which are vampires – on my hands and I just cannot think of a way how to keep them from harming anyone eventually."

Rubbing his chin in deep thought the wiser being muttered, "Well, they certainly cannot remain here any longer. You must move out immediately, but where and on which paths..?"

Keeping his mouth from betraying the fact that that was rather obvious Harry sat back waiting patiently.

Leaving his previous post by the pillar, Boromir began rummaging through some of the papers the other vampire had strewn about in a rather youthful display of untidiness. With a low grunt of victory the strong man picked up the map, he and Harry had been studying a few hours before. Spreading the crackling old material on the floor, he bowed over it his index-finger tracing a few incomprehensible words, as it finally settled on a single small reddish dot, pretty much in the middle of the map. For Harry's sake he supplied, "This is where we are. The Hornburg." His finger moved a tiny bit upwards on the map. "Isengard." Following a faded brownish path eastward (If it was on the right, just like in maps of his world that is) along the stylised mountains, he muttered a faintly familiar word, "Minas Tirith…" Looking at Gandalf in a more challenging way than Harry had ever seen before the man said in a deceptively neutral voice, "Two choices. I dare say between the three of us we will be able to make a decision."

Knitting his brow, the other vampire tried to figure out what had gotten into the man. His eyes were stormy and if Harry didn't know him better than that he'd have shifted a little so he could intercept the taller one in case the old man's response ripped the thin string currently keeping the other vampire's emotions in check.

And indeed for a second it looked like Boromir might lose his composure, when the wizard shook his head gravely saying, "Neither is actually a choice." Obviously trying to placate the irate undead, the wizard calmly explained, "You must not think of these creatures as a normal army. Sooner or later Harry may not be able to control them any more, if he doesn't indulge their lust for blood and battle, so leading them to Minas Tirith would be a decidedly foolish move to make and Isengard would be nothing more than a great detour."

"But I have a score to settle with Saruman!" Harry cried out, realising that now he might never get the chance to get some answers.

"So have many others, but this is not the time for such childish desires, young wizard," the sage rebuked sharply. "Need I remind you of all people what we are dealing with? Imagine these creatures descending upon a city like a swarm of locusts and tell me again that your desires for vengeance are of dire importance."

Biting his lip the vampire remained silent, feeling angry at being scolded like this, but unwilling to start a fight.

Accepting the other's silence as an answer, Gandalf continued as though he had never been interrupted in the first place, "There is really only one location you may turn to." His weathered but strong hand ran over several names on the map all the way east and then south, Boromir gasped sharply when it finally came to rest on a piece of land that must have been truly gigantic, if Harry's estimation of the map's scale was even remotely correct. The map didn't even seem to display all of it, but a minuscule part. "Harad, or The South. At least the northern parts have allied themselves with Sauron, but rumour travels fast and they say that the Haradrim have _all_ been unified under one banner." At this Boromir gave a small cry and Harry too looked worriedly down at the map, comparing what he thought was Gondor and Rohan with what clearly belonged to their enemy. The current situation looked bad and their small victory suddenly very unimportant.

"For obvious reasons you should avoid human cities for their safety as much as yours. They would assume you are an enemy and it would be everything but easy to negotiate with an army of hungry orcs breathing down your neck." Harry easily refrained from pointing out that they didn't breathe; he was in no mood to joke.

Tracing the map with a hand covering his mouth, Gandalf was obviously trying to think of a clever route to take, which bypassed most villages. "You should make your way through the caves first, then over this mountain." He showed him the minuscule trade route leading south over the mountain, or maybe it was a valley that was too small to be shown on the map. Helm's Deep was only a tiny dot on it after all.

Sighing Gandalf wiped away the sweat on his brow. "Your troops are needed most in South Ithilien and beyond and only there will you find enough food for them. But the distance is too great…" He traced the journey on the map and even Harry - who understood little of what the map was trying to tell him - could see that. "At least 150 leagues lie between you and any reasonable destination you may have. If you do not move fast you will have problems on your hands."

"The war machines will be left behind and – I know you will not like to hear this – those among your troops that are alive should be eliminated or in the case of the Wildmen you may consider sending them back north. This way you will be able to move all day and night and will probably be able to cross 6 leagues with every hour." He smiled grimly. "I will be very grateful if Mordor does not have vampires at its disposal. This journey should take an army weeks." He presented Harry with one of his smiles which was a very rare sight these days. "Commanding this army might not be the wisest thing, but it is seldom the wise that win the wars for their people."

The old wizard gripped the vampire's shoulder and Harry felt strength flood through him. He didn't know whether it was the relief of knowing that the mighty being was on his side and would probably defend his actions or whether it was part of the subtle but powerful magic the wizards of Middle Earth wielded.

It was a short while later, that found Boromir and Harry supervising the decampment. It was going smoothly, as there weren't many tents and provision around to begin with. For the most part the orcs were already finished, after storing a great assortment of weapons on their bodies and putting on their crudely made armour.

"Gondor is your home isn't it?" Harry asked out of the blue in a neutral voice, knowing full well that it indeed was so; the other had talked about it a lot. "You should go there." As the other turned to him wide-eyed and about to retort, the older of the two continued, "It is obvious that you would much rather go home and defend it directly, instead of going south." The other opened his mouth to object, but he was given no chance, as Harry turned around giving the command to move out. The army fell into step behind him.

For a while the oldest vampire had hoped that his friends would follow him after all and fall into step behind him. He didn't really want to go alone. There was not a single trustworthy individual among the hundreds of creatures, he was leading. Especially since every last living creature had been sucked dry by his command. Steeling himself he entered the caves and watched the frightened mothers and children that futilely tried to hide themselves and the bodies of their men in the darkest corners. His sharp red eyes searched hundreds of tiny terrified faces, until it finally found the dirty one he had been looking for. Not pausing in his step he took out Eowyn and activated the charm on her so she would hurry back to her owner – after the exercise he got the previous day, he had reached a great level of proficiency when it came to that handy charm. Risking but one careful glance over his shoulder to make sure it worked, he was rewarded with a toothless smile, as the girl hugged the rag doll.

Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli and Haldir were waiting by the tunnel that would lead them deeper into the mines. He gave them one last discrete nod, before he passed and tried to convey that he wished them all good luck. He allowed one of the orc chieftains that had been familiarised with the caves layout to come up close behind, before the whole army broke into a brisk jog.

A few hours later the Hornburg resembled a bee hive some silly child had poked a stick into, humming with activity, angry soldiers running this way and that with no real purpose to speak of. In the valley below Boromir could see a few of the more level-headed ones who were searching for surviving Wildmen, orcs or armour. If they did find a piece of armour twitching with the remainder of the Dark Wizard's magic the soldiers usually ran away, which was quite amusing to see and the reason why many kids had snuck outside to watch the spectacle.

Wishing he was in an as elated mood as they were Boromir had found a secluded spot away from the cheering children. He felt worse than those many times, when he had to let his little brother sneak into enemy territory with no more than a small group of others. At least he didn't ever leave his younger sibling alone in the care of the very beasts they usually hunted. At least he had never sent his brother right into the _middle_ of the enemy's territory in order to weaken their troops. At least he had never abandoned his brother, when he had really wanted and needed his help. The High Warden of the White Tower had no delusions that the vampires - for all their strength and stamina - could take on the whole might of the Harad. Not after he had grown up with stories about their walking fortresses and sheer numbers. He sighed hollowly. There would be a moment when Harry's only chance of survival would be to flee and he had a feeling that this was something the older vampire just wouldn't do.

He almost jumped, when a hand suddenly came to rest on his shoulder and turning he glared at the fair elven face of Haldir, who despite the worry shining in his eyes smiled at him a little mischievously. Going back to staring into the distance Boromir decided to ignore the nuisance, hoping he would take the hint and leave. Of course he wasn't that lucky. "I am sorry to have startled you, but it seems you didn't hear me when I called your name."

Although he was convinced the other had in fact not bothered to rouse him from his brooding verbally, he just grunted in response. The elf still didn't take offence and got lost.

Chuckling slightly the blond said, "My, what courtly eloquence you flaunt." It seemed that he tired of his own game though, because his laughter soon subsided. "He does have a way of growing on people, doesn't he?"

It came out more like a statement than a question and Boromir knew very well who the other was talking about, so he just kept on acting as though the troublesome elf wasn't there. He broke after a few minutes of silence though, "You left your home and have yet to return to your people, even though you know they are in danger; why?" The answer was fairly obvious, but he felt it was something worth admitting even if it was just this once.

That annoying little smile returned to the blond's face as he mock-wondered, "My ruler ordered me to?" When he received a wilting glance in return, the smile slipped and he looked around discretely as though making sure nobody was spying on them and might later use this knowledge against him. "He may be beyond the age of a child by any reckoning be it men or even elven, but I find it hard to view him as anything but a child… A child I have grown quite attached to."

Knowing this was as close to admitting the truth, as the elf would get, Boromir decided to relieve the tension, "A very dead child."

Quirking a graceful eyebrow, the Marchwarden asked, "Do excuse me for I am not as well-versed with Westron as you are, Lord of Men, but I am quite sure that 'dead' is ungradable...in any language really."

It felt strange joking around with the elf like that. A few months ago elves had been seldom more than a foot note in the battles he had read about and now he was friends with two of them. One, the dark-haired archer, Legolas, he could somehow understand, as it was hard to spend so many days in the company of someone and not become friends at some point, but when exactly had the unapproachable elven soldier Haldir become someone he could stand next to in these dark times and exchange silly, flat jokes with? The only real link he saw was the fact that they were both close friends with the green-eyed wizard - who was gone; somewhere on Gondorian soil with his unpredictable army of undead soldiers.

"Would you do it, too?" the elf asked out of the blue. When the other just gave him a questioning look, he elaborated, "Would you be able to trust others to keep your country safe if you knew another person needed you more?"

"Gondor needs me. So does my father," the Captain-General stated coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Minas Tirith will face one of its most horrible wars soon. The city must not fall." Sensing a flaw in his reasoning, since he could have helped in the war effort if he helped the wizard, he stated, "I have to be there!" He refrained from groaning, since that had sounded like the argument of a little child.

Humming in reply, the blond cocked his head and just wondered aloud, "Is there none you can truly trust?" There was not a single hint of rebuke or even pity in his voice; if anything he sounded a bit curious.

Blinking Boromir let this question digest. Of course he trusted his men. To him, despite the fact that some said his beloved city was dying with its tree, Minas Tirith was the strongest and most beautiful place on earth, which was the reason why he had to keep it safe in the first place. But the elf was right of course. He could contribute more in Harad with Harry than as a single individual in the White City. His problem wasn't quite as simple as the elf's had been though. The elf had been a soldier of high rank, but not the commander of the troops, not the Lord's right hand.

Raking a hand through his knotted hair, the man tried to think of a person who could _lead_ Gondor against Mordor in his stead. Being no fool, he knew that his father's better days had long passed with their mother and Faramir, while willing to do anything to please him or his father, would much rather read about heroic acts in books than carry them out himself. There were others friends and comrades in the city, who he trusted with his life… but most definitely not his city.

Then it suddenly hit him like the club of a troll. _Aragorn_. By the Valar! The king had returned and with all that had happened he had forgotten. No matter how he felt about it, it would be the _king_, who led the men of Gondor from now on. And strangely enough he found he didn't mind at all. It was as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Gripping the elves shoulders with joy he couldn't quite understand, he almost yelled, "Yes! Yes, there is someone."

Bewildered by the sudden change in mood and more than a little embarrassed, the blond didn't break the other's hold for a moment, but when he finally had had enough he coughed politely. "So now that we have finally established that you are actually free to go where you wish, what are you going to do?"

The happiness dissipated as the man considered his options for a moment and he was about to answer, when he heard a shout from below.


End file.
